


Light Up The Dark

by Miutinichisheno



Series: Lord of the Mountain verse [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eddie has a potty mouth, F/M, Gen, Lisa is done with everyone's shit, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Miles is really just getting taken advantage of, People don't include Lisa enough in these kinds of fics, Waylon has a backbone, Wendigos, alp, mentions of abuse, warning emotional whiplash contained within
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 141,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miutinichisheno/pseuds/Miutinichisheno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 30 chapter long fic that follows Eddie and Waylon in, escaping and outside of the asylum. Waylon makes a deal with one of the most dangerous patients at the asylum and Eddie doesn't realise how over his head his plan for revenge leaves him. The two learn to cooperate and work together, finding themselves on the road as they escape Murkoff calling in favours here and there along the way.  Waylon discovers just far he can really be pushed and Eddie begins to allow himself to shed the layers years of trauma, mistreatment, self-destruction and rage have built around him; the two becoming a duo that Murkoff will wish they'd never crossed</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fateful meeting, separated by only a door and a glass panel. Not so great when it's you on the wrong side this time.  
> I've made a playlist for this fic of all the music I use, so if you're interested that's [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmnfCbrIhoGLMfx7DHrYFZNhfZxVItLSm) and a link for my [Tumblr](http://www.miutinichisheno.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Come here, no, I won't say please  
> One more look at the ghost  
> Before I'm gonna make it leave
> 
> Come here, I've got the pieces here  
> Time to gather up the splinters  
> Build a casket for my tears."

Their eyes locked in what was a few moments of heart-stopping terror. The man's eyes widened, his smile grew. He proclaimed him his 'darling' with such glee, like he was an old lover meeting again after years apart. He was familiar to Waylon, but he couldn't place it amongst the blind terror. All he could do was hide, just like with everything else. There was no way out, he was cornered.  
The man's voice echoed, pleasant and with a slight speech impediment, probably from the horrific scarring on his upper lip.  
“Did I frighten you? I'm awfully sorry, didn't mean to.” He almost believed him. If he hadn't seen the display of the previous victim with a head shoved between his legs, then maybe he'd have replied. He hid under a desk, just out of the way. How the man could see where he was going was beyond him, it was almost pitch black.. He recounted how he remembered him, he recognised him from before he woke up and how scared Waylon must have been to run and hide from him. The man who he had to fix the engine's coding for. How The Groom (as he ha been referred to by the man with multiple personalities upstairs) had begged for his help, how the wardens were going to rape him. How scared he had been then, and how scared Waylon was now. It seemed almost fitting. He said it was like a dream, telling him all about how he wanted to be with him.

The programmer watched with horror from his camera as the man stalked around the tables up to the door he'd seen him through, but he was insistent, he was going to be found.  
How did the man not see the light from his camera? Was he so deluded that he didn't see it? Well he was referring to him as a woman. As The Groom walked towards the corner of the room, checking under the desks there, Waylon took his chance and bolted. He came in somehow, and lo and behold, the door he'd entered through was wide open.  
“Darling, where are you?” He called after him, his footsteps heavy and surprisingly quick. The man was broad shouldered and well built, he was clearly powerful. He had to find a way out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm haunted  
> (By the lives that I have loved)  
> I'm haun, I'm haunted
> 
> By the hallways in this tiny room  
> The echoes there of me and you  
> The voices that are carrying this tune"  
> Poe - Haunted


	2. Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon is backed into a corner and finds himself saying a little too much. The entanglement of the two deepens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's with the long face? Do you want more?  
> Thousands of red-eyed mice, scratching at the door,  
> Don't let the curtain catch you, cause you've been here before,  
> The chair is an island darling, you can't touch the floor"

 “You'd rather die, than be with me?” Even from all the way own the elevator shaft, Waylon could see the creases at the corner of his eyes, how hurt he was if the slight shake in his voice wasn't enough. “Then die.”

Eddie disappeared for a moment and Waylon took his chance to get to his feet, his ankle stung and burned. Perhaps he shouldn't have taken the debris out, as much as it would have hindered him, he wouldn't be leaving blood trails for the man to track him with. The engine above him clicked and whirred, the lift moving up, the grate closest to him was open and he would take his chance, he just about managed to scramble onto it, hissing with each step he took, the pressure on his ankle almost unbearable. He'd run for as long as he could, but something told him he'd have to get smart about it. How in the hell would you go about reasoning with a man that far gone.  
  
“What have you... Ha! Then we continue.” The man on the floor above let out an amused laugh and his footsteps hammered above him. The groom had the unfair advantage of knowing his own turf like the back of his hand. In barely any time at all, he'd found Waylon and was in pursuit. “The part of you the world see, they think it's perfect. As God intended. Even these idiots and lunatics can see it. There's something special about you. On the surface. But when they look deeper, when anybody with eyes to see looks at what you truly are. That's why they don't trust you. You're not what you're meant to be. Not yet.”  
“How in the hell do you _know_ what I'm _supposed_ to be?” Waylon slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening as he realised that he was cornered. Eddie was coming right towards him, he'd backed himself into a corner and now he was sassing him. Eddie stopped just in front of him, almost hesitating.   
“This place can see into your mind. All the things you've done. Oh, they're a sin darling.” Did he mean when he fixed the coding? Did he remember it in some fucked up way?  
“What about the things _you've_ done? What about all those bodies? What did they do?”  
“They were unfit for my children. They didn't survive the procedure to make them perfect.”  
“By carving them up?!” His whole body tensed, awaiting the inevitable blow. His hands and forearms covering his chest an face.  
“Oh, darling.” The groom reached out, his hands gently moving his arms away from his features. In the dim light that hung above them, Waylon got a good look at exactly how the machine had damaged him. The blood vessels in his eyes had burst, the whites of his eyes stained red, skin had ruptured and grown sore. “A flower is only as sweet as the soil that nourishes it-”  
“I'm sorry.” Waylon interrupted, eyes still wide. It wasn't completely his fault. But all he could hear when he looked at him were his terrified screams. ' _Get away from me you jack-booted fucks!_ '  
“Whatever for?”  
“You don't..” If he told him exactly what had happened then there was no telling what would happen. Would Eddie remember and beat him to death for it? His file was illuminating, how violent he got when confronted with what had happened to him before. Now wasn't the time for this. He wasn't going to be a sacrificial lamb, not when he had his own life waiting for him outside. “You _terrify_ me. Everyone here is so..” They were damaged. That was why he got himself into this mess before right? He'd called foul on Murkoff and here he was for his trouble. Faced with the man he aided in making into the monster he was now.  
“Awful? I know, they're so vulgar and ungrateful-”  
“Sad.” He interrupted again, and he could see the twist in Eddie's features. “They lash out because they're confused and Murkoff hurt them. Like you.”  
“...Yes, I admit that I have been a little.. _vulgar_. But you know how a man gets when he wants to know a woman.”  
“No. I don't actually. I don't know what you think is the appropriate way to court a woman, but this isn't it. Look at what you made me do.” Waylon gestured to his ankle. At any second, he knew Eddie would get tired of this and beat him senseless, and yet he stood there, looking bewildered and somewhat taken-aback. “I hurt my ankle because you scared the shit out of me-”  
“That's not language a lady like yourself should be using-”  
“It's a good thing I'm not a fucking lady isn't it?! It's _2013_! Not the 1950's. I'm not something for you to control and nor am I gonna be your pretty little housewife.”  
“You're certainly not ladylike at all.” Eddie's nose wrinkled, disgust creeping into his features. “You're just an ungrateful slut like the rest of them.”  
“No. I'm rejecting you, I'm not _teasing_ you. I am scared, at my damn wit's end and you're being an _asshole_!   
“How dare-” He raised his fist, in that moment Waylon could feel his blood run cold and his empty stomach churn. He was so tired already.  
“I want to go home to my family. See my kids again.” He closed his eyes and howled, cheeks turning red and the corners of his eyes prickling at the thought of never seeing Lisa and his sons again. “Either help me get out of here or get the _hell_ out of my way!”  
“You have children?” The man almost looked dejected, lowering his balled fist. “I want a family myself. A legacy. To be the father I never had. I'd never let anything happen to our children, not like..”  
“If you want to be the _man_ your father should have been, then help me. They need me.”  
Eddie's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides and unclenching. He looked lost. Had anyone ever really spoken to him like he was a human being before this?  
“What happened to their father?”  
  
He could tell him about Lisa, but somehow he didn't think that would fly too well in his books. Single mothers were usually demonised and most likely he'd get called a whore for it.   
“He worked for Murkoff.” Waylon replied a little too quickly. “He saw what they were doing to everyone here and he called them on it. They took him away from us, claiming he'd gone insane and they'd take care of him. They did awful things to him, but the message sent. People know what they've been doing here.”  
Eddie's throat grew dry, something was happening with the man in front of him, and Waylon couldn't put his finger on it.   
“It was you.” The groom finally said. “I remember where I saw your face. They were calling for you for so long. I begged you to help me, but you fixed the machine anyway.”  
“You know what they're capable of!” Waylon barked. “If I hadn't fixed it then I would have been fucked either way. _I_ got the message out. After you were put in there, I went back to where I'd sent the email and they were waiting for me. If I hadn't have done it they would have called someone else to do it, but they were onto me. I'm _sorry_. I just had to do something. It makes me sick that I had to.”  
“You didn't help me, why should I help you?”  
“I wasn't in a position to help then, but you are now. This place has gone to hell, they're not in control anymore. You know this place, and my kids need me.”  
The groom's nose wrinkled again, lips pulling back into something of a snarl. Waylon recoiled as Eddie's fist punched the locker behind him, denting it to the point it almost folded in on itself.   
“You lied about your husband, why should I believe you about your children.”  
“Because you know I'm not lying about them.”  
“Fine.” He replied in a low growl, each syllable enunciated perfectly. “I'm not doing this for you, _darling_. I'm only doing this for the sake of your children.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And good God, under starry skies we are lost,  
> And into the breach we got tossed,  
> And the water's coming in fast!
> 
> And oh my love remind me, what was it that I said?  
> I can't help but pull the earth around me, to make my bed  
> And oh my love remind me, what was it that I did?  
> Did I drink too much?  
> Am I losing touch?  
> Did I build this ship to wreck?"  
> Florence+the Machine - Ship To Wreck


	3. Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Waylon take a detour by the blocked off dispensary, Eddie stitches up Waylon's wound and Waylon discovers a little more on Eddie's file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He doesn't make your knee weak,  
> he's beautiful and bleak.  
> He has a porcelain face,  
> that cracks when he speaks.  
> I go to start a conversation but I,  
> get no reply,  
> and you stare just like a statue  
> as I break down and cry."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Sure, the asylum itself was noisy in its own way, the Variants around them running for cover as Gluskin approached. His footsteps were heavy, more of a warning than anything and the keys in his pocket jangled dully. Part of Waylon wanted to ask how he got them, but his imagination painted a colourful enough picture of Eddie eviscerating one of the wardens and ripping the keys from his uniform. The huge beast of a man he'd encountered earlier was enough to make the wardens and Blaire flee for cover, whilst Eddie wasn't nearly as huge as him, he looked as though he was more than capable of handling himself in a fight. He was a man who found it difficult to take a simple 'no'. It was all about power dynamics. He had to be more powerful. Of course he would, after everything he went through.

“You're falling behind.” The man all but spat, barely casting a glance over his shoulder.  
“My ankle hurts.” Waylon bit back his own venom. Getting into a heated argument was pushing Gluskin more than he was comfortable with doing. He had to let the man think that he was doing this of his choice, though outright manipulation wasn't going to go over well. Eddie stopped and let the man catch up, panting as he doubled over, hands on his thighs and taking deep shaking breaths. “I'm going as fast as I can.”  
The larger man's shoulders sagged somewhat, letting out a frustrated sigh. _You did that Gluskin._ Really, he had no one else to blame but himself, the voice was right. Whilst he seemed alert enough, everything felt like it was exactly as he'd said earlier; dream like. Nothing felt quite real. He heard the words coming out of his voice but he didn't feel as though he was totally in control of it all. Like some warped fuzzy-logic had taken over. Realistically he knew that if he put a buzzsaw between a man's legs, a vagina with a working uterus it wouldn't make, and yet it was what his mind told him to do. It made the absolute perfect logic. A vagina was just an opening between someone's legs right?  
When Eddie looked at Waylon, he registered that yes, he was a little too broad shouldered and chested to be typically female, his arms larger than any woman he'd met, let alone the stubble on his chin, but his hands were so delicate. Long elegant fingers that clacked away at keys so fast and with such precision. Each time he opened his mouth to refer to him as 'him' or 'male' it was like something got lost in translation and called him a 'her' or a woman. Any excuse his mind could make it could and absolutely would.  
He knew the rooms were dusty, blood covered and grossly neglected and yet he called it his home. He'd been stuck at Murkoff for long enough to not be able to think of much else. How many other places had he been before? Just a trophy for one doctor to try and 'fix' for their glory? He blinked, and part of him began to believe it was the luxurious home he'd always wished for. Adorned with beautiful decorations, expensive couches, hunting trophies, photograph frames awaiting the photographs of his family. It a matter of moments it was gone, but was still there as though it were a faint overlay. The dust was thick, how long had it even been? How much neglect had this place suffered long before their wards escaped confinement?

“Very well.” The man sighed, scooping Waylon up, as though the entire thing was just an inconvenience. “We shall make a detour. Walking on that will only aggravate it.”  
The way he carried Waylon was as though he weighed nothing. It was enough to make Waylon's blood run cold, he was already putting faith in a man he probably shouldn't and yet his powerful arms held him so close he couldn't even begin to consider squirming out of his grip. He could crush him against his chest if he wanted and just leave him to rot. And yet he wasn't. The wooden panelling thinned out, turning into the sleek metal of the deeper parts of the asylum, the newer builds. The door was marked with a medical cross and Eddie gestured with a glance to the door handle to Waylon. The programmer wiggled the handle and found that it was locked.  
“At least no one will have spoiled it.” Eddie sighed wearily, leaning to set Waylon down. He was a little rough about it, but such was Eddie's personality. He fished out the keys and began going through the ring, looking at the lock and then back to the keys only to try the ones that looked as though they'd fit, one by one. Gradually he grew more and more frustrated as he went through the keys, starting to wonder if he even had a key for this particular one. He swore under his breath, wiggling the handle as one key moved, but got stuck. He tried to twist it back to its starting point to pull it out but it wouldn't budge. Waylon shifted uncomfortably as he could see the pink mist descending over his once relatively calm state.  
“Should we find another way in?”  
“Locked out of a room in my own  _home_.” Eddie growled, putting a boot against the door and yanking the key. It was too small and he couldn't get a good enough grip. If it were a wooden door he'd have probably been able to just kick it down like any of the other Variants.  
Whilst Eddie struggled, Waylon staggered around the corridor. No, he wasn't naïve enough to think that someone would just leave the key lying around, but in his experience there was usually more than one way into rooms in this place. Eddie was just being stubborn.  
“Don't wander too far.” He couldn't help but notice how Eddie had dropped calling him 'darling' when he was angry. He became someone almost entirely different when pushed, different layers to the fracturing of his personality. Not a case like the guy above Gluskin's territory, but aspects of the same person.  
“I think there's a window. If we break it we can-”  
“I'm not breaking a window in my own home.”  
“Eddie.”  
“Let me do this.” He growled, rattling the handle on the door fervently.  
“Eddie, it's alright if you  _can't_.”  
“I-” He turned to face Waylon, teeth bared and ready to howl the house down. _Be the man your father should have been and help me_. His lips drew thin, jaw tight and his knuckles white under his gloves.   
“Breathe. It's okay.” Waylon found his hands up, palms to Eddie and trying to placate him. “We'll find another way.”  
What if they needed the key later? Despite having all of them there were still some he didn't know what they'd unlock throughout the asylum. He needed to be in control, that was what being the man of the house was all about. But Waylon was right, as much as it pained him to admit. He had his father's pride and anger, but it made him recall what one doctor had asked, whether behaviour like that is innate or it's learned? He didn't want to think about it at all. So he cast it to the back of his mind, like he always had done. It all only has as much power over you as you let it. Breaking the window was the only other solution. If he broke the door then that beast Walker would be able to get in there and no doubt wreck everything just to spite him.  
“Eddie are you-”  
Eddie stepped past Waylon and grabbed a chair from further up the corridor, really he should have offered it to let Waylon sit on, but he'd remember to do that later. Instead he stormed back, pulling the thing back into a hefty swing. Waylon hit the deck and Eddie smashed the chair into the glass. It was only slightly reinforced. Whilst it didn't outright shatter there was a mass of cracks, like a web at the point of impact. Sadly the chair wasn't going to be much help any longer, the wood too old and rotted to be of use. Waylon stared at the dent with wide eyes, his mind helpfully reminding him that that could be him, transfixed on it as Eddie hauled him to his feet.  
“Stay here.”

Before Waylon could utter an ounce of protest, the man had stomped off in the other direction, back the way they came. Did he know what could happen to him whilst he was away? How defenceless he was? Clearly it wasn't at the front of his priorities, he was soothing the dent in his pride. At least there were places to hide and he still had his camera. Tugging at the metal ring of keys, he freed the loop from the stuck key, the key ring attached to it now warped and somewhat bent. With the keys in hand, Waylon opened a locker and shut himself inside. As claustrophobic as he might have found it beforehand, there was something comforting about it, even if in most cases when he hid in lockers it set his heart beating like it were the drum kit at a metal concert.  
“The groom's found a bride” Once Eddie was clear of the area, it seemed the hiding Variants came out to inspect the area and chatter about what they'd seen. Some had odd ticks about them, some left hideously deformed by the engine, but the group in the area seemed closely knit or at least curious enough to come together. He had to wonder if the word was spreading. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and listened to the chatter. It was distant, they were hesitant and cautious, why wouldn't they be? Anyone who'd been in Gluskin's territory would be more than aware of what he was capable of. When was the last time he got a chance to rest like this? He was so tempted to fall asleep, but what would Eddie do if he was asleep when he came back? He'd probably flip his lid and think he'd abandoned him. It was ridiculous wasn't it all, though? He was pandering to one of the most dangerous inmates all for the chance to escape. If he wasn't careful he'd probably start to believe his own bullshit. They weren't friends, they were just relying on one another to escape, well more accurately he was putting his faith in Eddie to help him. He had no idea what he could do with Eddie outside. Lisa sure as hell wouldn't want a known murderer under the same roof as her and the kids. Like he'd even want to keep him around. All he knew was he deserved better than what Murkoff had given him. He'd get out, expose Murkoff and Eddie could give them an account of what had happened too, make the video even stronger. There was no way Murkoff would be able to survive as a company after this, right?

  
“Darling?” He heard Eddie calling, his tone light and jovial once more, clearly he'd cooled off. Waylon groaned, opening the locker door and stepping into the light. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light and trying to work out why Eddie had two of the old sewing machines from upstairs under his arm. One was set on a desk and the other was then dramatically swung at the dented glass. The noise was horrific. Over and over again Eddie hammered the corner of the sewing machine's base into it, making the web grow larger and larger, the glass grinding and screeching in protest, swearing and grunting with the effort he poured into the act. The first sewing machine seemed to be on the brink of giving up, the corner he'd been hammering into the gap now chiselled down into a blunt edge, cracks running throughout the structure. Eddie took a step back or two back, putting distance between himself and the nigh obliterated glass. He wiped his brow and Waylon watched in awe and Eddie threw it like it was a shot put. The glass shattered and the sewing machine flew into the back of the medical room. If the place was still active, he was sure that there'd be an alarm blaring over the intercom system, but all there was was the deafening silence of the asylum around them and Eddie catching his breath.  
“Unlock it from the inside.” He huffed, gesturing to the small gap he'd made in the glass. It was too small for Eddie to have even hoped to fit through, but just big enough for him to help Waylon clamber through onto the table in front of the window. “Come here.”  
Waylon nodded, his good foot stepping onto Eddie's palms clasped together. Gently he tried to ease him forward, giving him something to launch himself from and crawl through the hole they'd made. In the corner of the room there was a cabinet half open, medication littered on the shelves, mostly all tranquillisers Waylon noted. There had to be painkillers and antibiotics surely?  
“Are you going to let me in or not, darling?”  
“Shit, sorry.” Waylon hobbled towards the door, turning the latch with a click.  
“Language, dear.” Eddie was met with raised eyebrows that gave the impression he was calling him a hypocrite internally after that little display, as impressive as it was.  
“You swear all the time.” He uttered under his breath hobbling towards the medicine cabinet. He took a bottle of painkillers and swallowed them like they were candy.  
“I'm allowed to.”  
“Why?” Waylon shifted, hoisting himself up on the table. Eddie was shooting him a venomous glare out of the corner of his eyes. He really shouldn't have been pushing him and yet here he was. Challenging him in small ways. “Why is it fine for you and not me?”  
“I don't find it attractive.”  
“I don't find your temper attractive.” He quirked a brow, watching Eddie almost circle him as he brandished a needle and thread. “Don't change me I won't change you.”  
“You have no right to change me.” Waylon's brow remained in place, watching as Eddie's features twisted into a snarl. “But I suppose you already took that liberty.”  
“Then let me make up for it.” His brows dipped, despite their heated tone, Eddie pulled up a chair and took a hold of Waylon's ankle. It was red and swollen, attempting at scabbing but the bottoms of his inmate jumpsuit had stuck to it. “Tell me what you want.”  
“... A legacy.” He replied, quietly. “Hand me the rubbing alcohol.” The bottle was handed over and Eddie unscrewed the cap, soaking a rag in the liquid. “I want to be the father, mine should have been; this is going to sting.”  
He wasn't lying, Waylon's eyes blew and screamed, his leg tried to jolt away from the pain but Eddie held onto his foot firmly.  
“Why didn't you warn me?!”  
“You would have just worked yourself up further. Now shut up and let me carry on. I can't concentrate with you howling like a deranged animal.”  
Waylon's brows dipped and bit back the insults he was brewing, opting instead of bite the inside of his lips as Eddie dabbed at the wound further. The redness had amplified, but that was probably due to just how rusty the spike had been. The rag was set aside, The Groom didn't bother to ask how Waylon was doing, the tears streaming down his face spoke enough. Though he put that down to a combination of pain and stress. Waylon was a fragile specimen, how he'd survived this long was beyond him, probably close to something like a gazelle in the wild. So far none of the predators of the asylum had managed to catch him, but they hadn't been smart like he had. Waylon probably wasn't stupid, he knew how to survive, but if he got caught by Murkoff, then really he couldn't have been too careful. Luck. The man was lucky and good at thinking on the spot, see if he could wriggle his way out of this one.  
“I'm going to stitch it shut, you're going to have to hold on a little longer, darling.” He glanced up at Waylon once more, the programmer was covering his face with both his hands. The painkillers hadn't kicked in yet, not that it wasn't going to hurt anyway. There was something amusing about it all, maybe the man was getting what he wanted, after all the engine did bizarre things to the mind. He removed the needle pinned to his waistcoat and rubbed it down with the alcohol. The thread was just a the simple blend he'd used to tailor his clothes, but it was sturdy. Thankfully the spike hadn't gone right through and pierced the skin on the other side, he just had one side to seal up.

  
“How do you know how to do this?” Waylon asked shakily, not completely sure he wanted to know.  
“It helps to be self-sufficient, darling.” The stitching was fairly neat, but the heat was still overbearing, in fact he was sure it felt even worse now. Perhaps Eddie wasn't as self-sufficient as he believed. Once he was out he could get a professional to have a look at it, he'd just need to keep it clean. “Are you ready?”  
Waylon shook his head, shuddering as his tears subsided, sucking in air deeply. He hated crying anyway, and whilst the last thing he should be worrying about was how ugly he looked when he cried, he knew he looked ridiculous. Eddie gave a short huff and got to his feet, stepping away from the man. He looked as though he was in something of a daze, his eyes darted around the room sharply, but Waylon had to wonder exactly what he was seeing. He knew they didn't always see the same thing, the fact he was still calling him his darling and referring to him as a woman was enough of a clue.  
Something about Waylon's eyes on him made his skin crawl. Not a few hours beforehand he'd been chasing him down to make him his bride, now he was biding his time. He didn't know what he wanted to do to him yet, but he knew he'd find something along the way and it'd be perfect when he did. To leave they had to find their way to the administrative block. From what he could remember of a map he saw the building had several courtyards, but the one that stuck out to him the most was the chapel. It was a small meagre little thing, quaint would be the best word for it.  
_We need a priest do we not?The ceremony must be perfect. If we try to cut away the sin she'll die before we get to the chapel. She won't be perfect, but we know one who could._ Ah yes, Trager. He had better-suited tools. A smile split his stern features. He turned to face his darling, she looked a mess, she would need cleaning up before and he would need to bring her dress.  
Waylon kept trying to lower himself from the table, but each time he put pressure on his foot he was terrified he'd split the stitching. He bit his lip, wincing as the warmth spread further up his leg. Perhaps..  
“Eddie.. do you think we should take what we can from here?”  
“You mean stocking up, darling? Ah yes, you have a point.” He strode forward, his body language shifted dramatically, rather than the tense squared shoulders and cold expression, he was looking at Waylon with utter adoration. “Yes if we are to be going on our Honeymoon we will have to pack.”  
“Honeymoon..?”  
“We'll go right after the ceremony.” Eddie beamed, hooking his hands under Waylon's armpits and gently lowering him to the floor. “I'll have to fetch your dress.”  
“Eddie don't you think you're rushing this?”  
“You don't want to marry me?” Eddie's smile that didn't quite reach his eyes disappeared, they were now searching him with scrutiny and Waylon realised he'd have to be thinking about his words once more.  
“Uh.. Just, you've so suddenly decided.”  
“You only told me you had a husband because you were scared didn't you? You didn't want to admit you were a single mother, did you? You've been struggling so much with those boys on your own haven't you?” He cupped Waylon's face, brows dipping. “They need a good father. To provide for them, to teach them how to be men. You didn't want to ask because you'd look desperate, was that it?”  
Waylon wasn't entirely sure when this scenario had wormed its way into Eddie's head, nor did he really want to indulge it. It sounded like something from a trashy romance novel, but Eddie was lapping it up so willingly. He shouldn't have been enabling him, or justifying his delusions, but this was his only chance.  
“Eddie, I've been hurt so many times before.. I don't want to put my sons in danger-”  
“I wouldn't do those things.” Eddie closed the distance between them, grabbing Waylon's hands earnestly. He wasn't pleading, so much as insisting. “I've had my share of disappointing whores and sluts who've tried to tempt me. Did he leave you? Did some whore seduce him away from you and your boys? What a selfish slut she must have been. He was unworthy of you. Never again, I won't let anyone hurt you the way he did.”  
“Uh..” Waylon tried to make himself smile. “Thank you.. But I want to take things slowly. Why.. why don't we call this our weekend away?”  
“Call it?”  
“We'll have a weekend away, get to know each other better.” The smile reached his features, but it was sheepish, really his poker face was awful. “I.. I don't want to disappoint you.”  
“Oh, but you  _couldn't_ , darling.”  
“I want you to be sure. For both of us.” _Mostly for my sake._  
Eddie sighed, dropping her hands. “You're scared of commitment. I understand. It is a big day for a woman. Unless you're toying with me.”  
“No! Not at all! I'm.. I'm thinking of you.”  
“That's all I need.” The man pressed a kiss to Waylon's forehead, turning back to the computer that somehow managed to survive. He looked at it blankly, he knew it had something he needed on it, but he didn't know what to do. It was important and he'd need it for his darling's sake, to make their trip to the chapel perfect, but he couldn't help but feel he'd forgotten.  
  
“What did you need?”  
“You wanted to pack for our weekend away, didn't you, darling?”  
Waylon narrowed his eyes as he approached the computer screen. Whoever had used it last had left themselves logged in. Convenient really. Eddie applied a fuzzy sort of logic to everything he did, they were in a dispensary within the asylum and Eddie wanted something. He'd been lucid only moments before and something made him slip back inside himself. When was the last time he'd been himself and not this caricature of a man that was his mask? Part of him wondered if it would be a good idea to poke the proverbial bear and start messing with medicating the man, he knew what Eddie was capable of so an Eddie who was completely aware of his abilities would be perhaps a little too much to be reckoned with.. but he wasn't stupid either. He'd be taking score of everything he did. Best to help him.  
“Do you want me to have a look?”  
“Oh, darling, that's precious of you, but I think this might be too complicated for you.” Eddie laughed lightly, clicking uselessly, completely confounded by the screen he was presented with.  
“I've been told I'm quite good with computers.” He paused for a moment as Eddie shot a glance over his shoulder at him, his eyes were narrowed. The last time Eddie saw him at a computer, he'd caused this, of course he wasn't going to trust him near it. “Please?”  
“I doubt you'll be able to do better, but by all means, try.” Eddie sighed and stepped aside, pulling the chair out for Waylon to take a seat at. He watched the programmer with that same scrunity again, gaze bouncing from the screen, to Waylon to Waylon's fingers clacking at the keys like greased lightening and then back to the screen. He saw the words he was typing and yet he couldn't make sense of them, something wasn't connecting all the dots. More like something didn't want him to.  
As he delved deeper into the system he found Eddie's file. It was.. interesting. To put it politely. There were files that contained photographs from his father and uncle's arrest. A photograph of a boy that was probably in his early teen years covered in bruises. It was so inhuman, so cold an clinical. Of course the police file would just want the facts, his stomach lurched. There was a chalk outline, blood everywhere. A weapon, photographs of bullet holes in the wall. It must have been quite the struggle “What are you looking at?”  
“Uh.. The doctors have said you need to pick up your prescription. I think it's been sent.” _Eddie thinks of this place as his house right now. Fuzzy logic, get him to get his meds. The 'nice' doctors have gone to the trouble of posting it. He'll go for that, right?_ Waylon skipped over the rest of the photographs and found his incarceration file. It had a psych analysis on it, which seemed to be mostly an attempt at baiting the man to anger, apparently it had succeeded. Eddie made a small noise, walking away from the computer and shifting through the cabinet where Waylon had found the painkillers.   
“What does it say I need, darling?” Waylon got a quick photo of the file, closing it and returning to digging up the prescription. The reasoning for some of the medications seemed to be mostly keeping him subdued. A subdued and drugged up Eddie wouldn't help him in this place at all. He just needed something like an anti-psychotic.. right? He grimaced scrolling through the document. “Darling what does it say?”  
“You know.. I think they've gotten it wrong on some of these..” Waylon glanced at Eddie, he was met with a raised eyebrow and that cold calculating look once again. Had this all been a test? Waylon swallowed thickly, not sure whether to keep going or not.  
“How do you mean, darling?”  
Waylon licked his lips, locking eyes with Eddie as he debated his next few words. “A lot of these are tranquillizers, they're not going to help.” Eddie clicked his tongue, still regarding him with those predatory eyes. He wasn't applying the fuzzy logic, he was being blunt, attacking the delusion head on once more. He wasn't trained for this, all he could do was clumsily test the water with him each time. “Do you.. trust me to do this? I can find the files.. but I don't know what'd best for your prescription.. do you remember anything? From before?”  
“Whatever are you talking about darling?” His expression shifted, giving him a confused little smile. “What came before? Before I met you? I told you, it's like a dream.”  
Waylon sighed, turning back to the computer. He needed something to treat delusions, paranoia and hallucinations, the more Waylon poked the further Eddie's lucidity dug itself deeper inside him, only rearing its head when he managed to find the right trigger words or phrases. He'd read that they performed hormone therapy on the patients in files he'd gathered, it was little wonder Eddie was so aggressive. He had to wonder if they'd.. He narrowed his eyes at the screen and opened a new search tab, interested to see if he could get into his own file they'd made. All he could find were the documents pertaining to the storm Lisa was kicking up about his incarceration. As for medication again, it was all tranquillisers, anything to keep him lethargic and susceptible to the engine's effects.

  
“Alright.. I'm going to grab a few things.” Waylon got to his feet shakily, finding that the pain was actually starting to numb. It only flared when he put too much weight on it which was easy enough to avoid. “I can you reach some things for me?”  
Eddie nodded, humming lowly, stepping forward to help Waylon to his feet. The programmer leant against the table he'd sat on before, pointing to boxes and tubes on the cabinet's upper shelves. Eddie would pause and glance at some, raising a brow as he examined one then set it in front of Waylon. Some of the writing was blacked out in patches, some packets were 2/3rds empty or completely empty. The empty orange pill bottles were next and Waylon gently eased the dosage strip off the packets and onto the bottles. They looked cack handed and messy, but he only needed to know which one was which if the need for them arose. He shoved them into the first aid bag, zipping it back up and slinging it over his shoulder. He just needed the camera and they were set.  
“Do we need anything else?”  
“Food and a change of clothes would be great..” He wished he'd had the sense to try and steal a can of drink or crisps from the vending machines earlier on, but he was too panicked, planning wasn't his strong suit. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, it was no wonder he was so shaky and the pain killers had made his stomach feel queasy.  
“We'll have to go to the kitchens.” Eddie's brows dipped, tapping his fingers on his chin theatrically.  
“Is that a problem?”  
“...I have something of a pest problem. I really should have dealt with it sooner, but I was a little distracted..”  
Things fell into place as he recalled running away from a man with a hand held buzzsaw, screaming manically about eating him. Everyone in the asylum was obsessed with doing horrific things to him, was it because he was recognisable as a Murkoff employee despite the inmate clothes? Waylon winced, he wasn't in a fit state to head back there, adrenaline would only count for so much before he'd fall ill if he kept this up.  
“What's wrong, darling?”  
“I think I met him. The 'pest problem'. We're probably better off leaving it be-”  
“It's my house, it needs to be pristine before I leave. Nothing worse than returning from holiday to a messy house.”  
“I was.. hoping whilst we were on holiday we'd find a nice place we could settle down together at. I don't want to come back.”  
“Is my home not good enough for you?” His temper was flaring again, Waylon put his palms up again, shaking his head.  
“My boys.. I don't think they'd like it here. They need.. a place where they can play outside. Where we don't have to worry about what could happen to them.” Waylon took a deep breath, Eddie was the sort of man where men were men and women were women. 1950's gender roles. Boys liked to play outside, rough and tumble. That sort of thing. “They need freedom.”  
His chest heaved, jaw tightening once more. Eddie strode towards the door and checked down the corridor. It was barren from activity. “But, I think we should leave him be. He's.. A bit much.”  
“Did he frighten you, darling?”  
“I had to run for my life. He wanted to eat me. The kitchen was.. there were bodies everywhere. I watched him eat-” Waylon covered his mouth, stomach lurching as the image of the cannibal reaching into the corpses' body and swallowing its liver whole. He blanched, hobbling after Eddie.  
“Then that settles it. I need to clear up house.”  
“Eddie, what if something happens to you? I need your help.” He knew he was being a little too forward, taking a hold of the man's forearm to help support himself, but he needed to play it up. And with the injuries he'd sustained, the idea of dealing with the cannibal again were the least bit appealing.  
“You think me reckless?” Eddie looked down at Waylon, bending his arm to better accommodate his lean. “You also think this pest is an even match for me?”  
“I don't think he's worth it.”

The two set off away from the dispensary, their pace a far cry from the frantic pace they'd set off from Eddie's sanctuary. Initially, Waylon had thought about seeing if Eddie wanted to take some of his prescription, but part of him felt it might perhaps be best to let him make that step rather than forcing pills down his throat. Eddie needed to be the one to invite him to do some things otherwise he'd never do it out of stubbornness.  _Everything is about control with him, stop poking and he'll open up if he's going to._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Your face is like an eagle,  
> but your mind is like a crow.  
> and boy i know you have opinions,  
> but you don't let them show.  
> You're a shelf of books with out the pages,  
> a wealth of thoughts locked up in cages.
> 
> So if blood runs through your veins,  
> don't you suppose it's such a waste  
> to be composed in such a way?  
> Just let me in..."  
> Gabrielle Aplin - Let Me Go  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	4. Snowflake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the vocational block and into the outside. Eddie starts to prove to be a helpful ally but in the process they cross paths with another searching for a way out. The only downside is the company they seem to have picked up along the way. Tempers flare and a middle ground is reached, if strenuous for both parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Follow me  
> Carelessly  
> Leave our plans  
> On the backseat  
> Chase the light  
> To lighter time  
> Open your eyes  
> Do you remember me
> 
> You don't like dancing  
> But don't you ever say  
> We're going nowhere  
> There's always somewhere we can be  
> You and me we can be you and me  
> So why aren't you dancing?  
> Why aren't you dancing?"

Walking around barefooted wasn't perhaps his best idea. But there seemed something in horrifically bad taste about stealing a dead man's shoes. Waylon didn't want to think of the splinters he was getting whilst walking on the hard wood floors. There were cracks every now and then, holes in the floor that lead to the lower floor. He dreaded to think what had caused the breakages, but he put it down to structural weaknesses to keep his mind at ease. The shake in his hands had progressively gotten worse, let alone his lethargy. Waylon had never handled calorie crashes well, but then again he had the option to eat whenever he needed it, needless to say even though his meal times since being incarcerated had grown in distance, his metabolism still hadn't caught up with the idea. He'd lost weight, he knew that much, his body was probably in full on starvation mode. How Eddie coped was beyond him, although the though he had his own hidden supply came to mind. He had the keys to his section, lord knew how long the cannibal had been inhabiting the kitchen, the blood all looked quite fresh. There was every possibility Eddie set him free from a section of the asylum he'd opened when expanding his territory. But that was all speculation. Unless Eddie talked about it, he had to just assume they'd all found their own way.  
  
“You still look rather pale, my dear.” Eddie frowned, glancing back at the man as he unlocked a set of double doors.  
“Looking forward to lunch.” Waylon gave a small, weary smile back.  
“We'll have to cross the courtyard,” he paused and looked down at Waylon's already fairly grubby feet. “You may get rather cold.”  
“I've been cold since I got here.”  
“It's an old building. I suppose when they built on top of it, they didn't care to modify it for comfort.” Waylon glanced at Eddie, not drawing any attention to how he'd switched to referring to the place as the asylum rather than his home.  
“I suppose not. Says everything doesn't it?”  
Eddie hummed as he took the key out and pushed the door open. It was pitch black outside, there was a light pattering of rain falling on the tin roofs of the outhouses and tool sheds. As Waylon directed the camera around the grounds, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen this part of the asylum before or if it all really did look the same. Maybe he'd just been going in the wrong direction.  
Despite the jovial front this aspect of Eddie put on, he was surprisingly quiet and focused. They didn't often exchange in conversation whilst getting further out of the vocational block into the male ward, it was more simple directions and instructions. Something had made him recluse inside himself and it was setting Waylon on edge. There was loud crashing coming from inside the building somewhere, echoing in the void between buildings. The footsteps were heavy and Waylon had to assume that it was that hulking beast he'd encountered before. There was nothing to say they couldn't reach the front of the vocational block and scale the outside building. He'd put aside his nerves once more if it meant avoiding more trouble. If his leg wasn't still in pain that was.  
“I thought the admin block was that way, we're heading-”  
“There's a barricade that was made.” Eddie replied simply. “Between my section and the male and female ward. There used to be doors that just connected you, but since Walker was unleashed someone blocked it up, put as much distance between as possible.”  
“Oh...”  
“There's a cafeteria in the Male ward. We're nearly there.”

Inside there was howling and vicious swearing being thrown around, the silhouette of a man running from something. Eddie's breath hitched and grabbed Waylon, his hand covering his mouth and looking up at the window. Being held so close to Gluskin was stifling. His clothes stank of death and blood. Yet the hammering in his chest that was pressed against him was oddly comforting. The man was as anxious as he was about it. Granted, he still couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea that he was being helped. What did Eddie get out of it other than freedom? But wasn't that all any of them wanted? If Gluskin got free then there wouldn't be any telling what he'd do if he was let out on his own. Rapidly the realisation that Waylon had taken on a larger responsibility than he was prepared for was dawning on him. If Gluskin was let out on his own then all those mutilated male bodies would soon be unsuspecting women being carved up.  
“Waylon.” The programmer looked up as best as he could. “As touching as this is, we need to move.”  
He let go of Eddie's arm and stumbled forwards, rubbing the nape of his neck. In the process, he found he captured a wonderful recording on his camera of Eddie giving a rather displeased look whilst Chris Walker stomped past behind him at a leisurely pace. Goosebumps shot up on his forearms and his blood ran cold. He'd only got a brief look at the beast of a man on his camera, but now he'd seen him for what he was. Horrifying. Absolutely horrifying.  
“You now see why I haven't made an attempt to escape.” Eddie, however, remained unflapped. “But we're not what he's searching for in this instance at least.”  
“What is he?”  
“He seeks to contain and stop those with dreams of escaping. As far as he's concerned we should stay and rot here.”  
“Why?”  
“Some part of him realises what's going on, I suppose. Hero complex.” Eddie gave a sort of huff, rolling his eyes as he leant back and looked in the window once more. Walker was long gone, following the Twins who were in pursuit of one Miles Upshur. “Every man for himself, right?”  
“Are you..?”  
“Lucid. Yes, it won't last so don't get your hopes up.” He grunted as he reached to the window and pushed it up. His feet shifted in the mud, the window wasn't so much locked as it was stubbornly refusing to move. “Stop filming me and _help_. Unless you want to go back to the Vocational block and become my 'bride'? I had nothing better planned.”  
There was a sharpness to his tone Waylon couldn't quite get used to, and yet it felt more natural than the disgustingly charming syrupy tone he took with him as the Groom.  
“But my stitches-”  
“Grow a pair would you? It's a stone's throw to the entrance from here. We'll fix your damn stitches when we're out.”

  
Waylon groaned, setting the camera on a bench and joining in the effort. His ankle was all but screaming at him, at this point it would have been less hassle to smash the window and deal with the inevitable Variants that would come to investigate. His arm jolted and the window budged. Eddie laughed in encouragement, huffing as he repositioned himself. It was impressive to see how powerful he was when that strength wasn't directed at you. He shifted, hoisted himself up on the window ledge on his back and pushed it like he was pumping iron. The sleeves strained around his muscles thickening at the effort. The window gave a protesting creak and it opened, stagnant warm air filtering out. It didn't matter how bad the place smelt, it was warmer than being stood out in the autumn air. Waylon leant in to hold the window as Eddie hoisted himself in and scoped out the hallway. He held it open for Waylon, glancing down the route Walker had created a passage through.  
“For someone trying to keep Murkoff's dirty secrets contained, he's doing an awfully good job of paving the way out for us.” In that moment Waylon noticed how sharp this side of Eddie made his features appear. There was something utterly predatory about him. He couldn't think what to equate him to, a shark, a black panther, an apex predator, he shuddered at the thought but blamed it on the temperature difference. “You still hoping for the cafeteria?”  
“I feel sick..” He admitted, acid reflux getting the better of him.  
“Cafeteria it is.” He grabbed Waylon's hand and began an unforgiving stride. The attitude was either from anxiety or pure confidence now he was in control again, but he was fairly sure it had to do with being so close to the admin block. “Ah.. If when we reach the female ward and your darling makes another appearance, remind him about the chapel.”  
“Why are you telling me this?” Waylon winced, putting more pressure on his foot than he'd like, making sure to record everything Eddie said. The Groom couldn't argue with himself could he?  
“Whenever I've tried to escape, I get just past the cafeteria, I found a key for the stair well and passages that connect the buildings.” He lead them around a corner, ducking into a small office as the footsteps got closer. He lowered his voice, eyes piercing on night vision. “As soon as I step over the threshold, something takes me back and I'm at square one.”  
“What do you mean?” He shifted closer, hiding under the desk, Eddie was crouched in front of him, blocking his way out.. or blocking anyone getting close. Waylon had to wonder exactly what Eddie had meant by the term 'found'. If by found he meant he probably beat a man to death for it, then yeah he'd believe that.  
“I black out. The part of me that made that Saatchi bait, it takes hold. I think it's part of the hypnotic suggestions the doctors made.” Waylon nodded seriously, albeit a little sour.  
“Why the hell the chapel... Eddie I can't do that.”  
“Why not? You've been stringing us along just fine up until now.” He clapped Waylon's shoulder, a slight snarl in his tone. “What's a fake marriage to add to the list?”  
He went to say something in protest and Eddie's hand covered his mouth again. Behind them they heard a horrific sniffing accompanied by chains rattling. Walker was patrolling the area. Waylon shuddered and grabbed Eddie's waistcoat, shifting closer to take solace in the fact that he had a killing machine keeping watch on him. Walker muttered something Waylon couldn't quite make out, all he knew was it sounded awfully coherent for what he thought was just a monster killing needlessly. Eddie sighed, detaching Waylon from him as Walker disappeared from the area.  
“Clearly you've never had to hide from someone like him.”   
“And you have?”

Eddie didn't reply, only shooting him a cold look that Waylon was fairly sure could have ripped his innards out if he possessed such a power. The shaking in his hand only seemed to have gotten worse, although being curled up under the desk sounded like a great idea, tiredness was catching up with him.  
“Get up. We're nearly there.” Waylon made a small noise in protest, clutching his head and curling up on himself. “Don't make me drag you.”  
“I'm sick of this. I need a break.”  
“You can take a break in the cafeteria, we can block off the doors whilst we're there. Now _get up_.”  
“Eddie, please-”  
“If you don't get your ass in gear now then I'll take you right back where we came from.” He reached forward and grabbed Waylon by the front of his shirt, dragging him out from under the desk. The man was strong enough to haul him up by his neck and hold him up, Waylon kicked, panicking further. His head was fuzzy enough as it was but it felt like this was the last push it needed. “Are you sure you don't want to be my bride? You're dragging your feet enough. Or do you think he really loves you? Is that why you want to help us? You feel bad for us? I don't need your pity. What the fuck can I do with that?”  
“Eddie--” Waylon gasped, gripping his wrist, trying desperately to hold himself up enough to keep the man from throttling him. Eddie exhaled harshly and let the man drop. Waylon's legs buckled under him, having to keep himself from crying out at the sharp pain that shot up from his ankle. If that didn't split his stitches then he didn't know what would at this point. He looked up at his partner, his lips were curled in a snarl. “Eddie I have been awake for nearly 22 hours, I haven't eaten in days, I'm so _tired_. I just want to go _home_.”  
“You're fucking pathetic, you know that?” He sounded more exasperated than actively angry.  
“I don't give a shit what you think. I'm sorry about the machine, I really am. But I've put up with you throwing me around, calling me a fucking whore, an ungrateful slut and trying to cut my dick off. I think we're even by now don't you?” Crawling under the desk and not waking up sounded even better. If it meant he didn't have to deal with this part of Eddie or Eddie at all, then he'd take it. Maybe by the time he'd woken up someone would arrive who could help him out, like the police or something.  
“Shut up already.”

Waylon made to retort before he found himself lifted up just like when he was carried to the dispensary in the Vocational block. Eddie's face was set back into that unreadable sternness and Waylon was left reeling about him all over again. First he told him to man up, then he threatened him and now carrying him?  
“I don't get you.”  
“After everything I've seen you go through, I would have thought you'd have a little more fight in you.” He'd been trying to goad him? Torment him into hitting back? It was a warped logic, but that was all Eddie seemed to operate on. Pushing him until he'd have lashed out and then what? What would that have achieved? “Once you've had something to eat you're taking more painkillers, you're a pain in the ass when you're high strung.”  
“How am I not meant to be highly strung in here?”  
“Look, how about you hold that camera of yours up so I can see where the fuck I'm going? There's a barricade we have to go through with a door above it. See those pipes, we're following them, they're for the sprinkler system.”  
“Is this your attempt at an apology?”  
“I went too far.”  
“But you're not apologising, oh of course, because that would mean you're actually wrong. Men _can't_ be wrong.” Waylon made a noise of disgust and held the camera up, brows dipped and more than fed up with him. He had every right to be furious with Eddie this time around. Eddie remained silent from that point onwards until they reached the cafeteria. He wasn't sulking, truth be told Waylon had a feeling he didn't know how to respond. He knew that he needed Waylon to get out of the facility, so pushing him wouldn't work anymore. He'd shown his cards too soon and he was now paying for it. It must have been killing his pride and fragile ego. Good. Not that he could hold a grudge for long, granted none of the people he had tried to had done half the things that Eddie had to him. And yet, he still couldn't. Eddie was the product of his upbringing and Murkoff, he was _sick_ , holding it against him felt like holding one of his kids accountable for an adult's mistake. He was doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Close the night down  
> You've made your point now  
> There's nothing here  
> When you're way over there  
> Don't be like that  
> I'll pull you back  
> You're swimming deep  
> But you'll come up for air
> 
> You don't like dancing  
> But don't you ever say  
> We're going nowhere?  
> There's always somewhere we can be"  
> Gabrielle Aplin - Why Aren't You Dancing?  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	5. Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie reveals something about the origin for his affiliation with misogynistic slurs. The Groom regains control and the pact is sealed, Waylon agrees to marry him but only if he'll leave with him. Preparation ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You've been awake for hours,  
> I've been awake for days.  
> My eyes still feel like I'm asleep  
> stuck inside an empty dream.  
> Question if this is even real,  
> a cliché way for me to feel.  
> Unfinished messages to send,  
> I told you I never want to end.
> 
> I've watched you break yourself in two  
> and try to give me half.  
> And I seem to wonder what it takes to work,  
> to make this last."

The meal was underwhelming, though really he shouldn't have been surprised, but who in the hell even used the term whelmed anyway? Eddie was drumming his fingers incessantly on the table. It was an indiscernible rhythm, if it was a song then it was one that Waylon hadn't heard enough to know what it was. Cold tinned beans and toast. How there was a supply of bread that was still edible around here was beyond him, but he wasn't going to question Eddie's resourcefulness. In the back of the cafeteria's kitchen there was what appeared to be a cupboard, locked tight. Eddie had just so happened to produce a key from his stolen lot that opened it and Waylon was getting the feeling that a lot of those bodies in the gymnasium weren't just inmates, wardens and doctors who'd mistreated him were probably amongst the ranks. They keys were the prize, the kill was just a means to an end for the sake of bloodlust and revenge. His stomach didn't feel so upset after the meagre meal, and really he started to wonder if it wouldn't be worth grabbing some things before they left.  
“The place wasn't so charred the last time I came here.” Eddie paused the incessant drumming of his fingers to look around the room. It was blackened and smelt like the aftermath of a bonfire that had a bucket of water dumped on it. Ashes, musk and slightly coppery water. Somewhere in the way of the kitchenette there'd been a body. He was burned alive, Waylon couldn't stand to look at him, Eddie had delicately directed him towards the food. Yes, being hungry made him a bit moody, but it did anyone. He just had a habit of being more inclined to tears than the fits of rage that Eddie burst into.  
“You think he.. just couldn't stand it?” Waylon pushed his plate away.  
“Wouldn't surprise me. The minute the wardens lost control there were a lot of patients who had been on suicide watch that took the opportunity.” The man shrugged passively, he didn't seem all that phased by it, but that was just a testament to how is psychopathy shot his empathic abilities to hell.  
“...Aren't you going to eat anything?” Eddie made a non-committal noise.  
“I'm alright.”  
“When was the last time you ate?”  
“I'm used to erratic meals. I'm fine.”  
“Then let's at least fill our pockets with what we can?”  
“It's either food or first aid supplies.”  
“Can't you make a bag?”  
Eddie seemed almost highly amused by the notion. “Waylon _Park_. Mr 'I won't steal the shoes from a corpse' has just upgraded to Mr 'I'm going to ask my questionable companion to steal the bloodied clothes off their back just so I can carry food'.” Waylon's jaw dropped, hands raising as he flailed a little at the notion. “I'm having a bad influence on you.”  
“No, I just.. there's got to be something we can use?”  
“You're so highly strung. Relax I'm joking. You're being practical.” Eddie got to his feet, that smirk didn't look quite as threatening as before. Still apex predator like, but less of a threat to his persons. _For now_ , he reminded himself hastily and again was met with that fresh wave of paranoia about what he was planning. He'd admitted that he needed him to get out of the place. They needed one another. He leant on his palm, wondering exactly how he was going to explain this to his wife. He must have been staring into the middle distance for a fairly long time because he was woken up by Eddie snapping his fingers in his face. “Come on, don't zone out on me.”  
“Sorry-- I probably needed the sleep more than I realised.”  
“Given the fuss you were making earlier I don't know how you can't have realised how much you need it. Problem with Walker patrolling there isn't going to be a good place for you to take five..” Eddie watched as Waylon's face scrunched at the notion of no pit stops. “I find it's the sleep that trashes you when you've been awake for a long time. When you wake afterwards, _that_ is when you feel like you've been hit by a truck that backed up over you a couple of times for good measure. Then maybe took you to that shitty ass restaurant that makes roadkill into a meal for you.”  
“Uhm.. thank you..I..”  
“Ngh- never mind.” Eddie closed his eyes and shook his head. “Give it a little while, you rest I'll get supplies.”

Waylon watched as Eddie excused himself and disappeared to the kitchen of the cafeteria once more. He wasn't entirely sure what he just witnessed, but he was fairly sure that the Groom wouldn't be caught dead speaking like that. So why the act? There was a shout from where Eddie had disappeared and a couple of dull thuds, Waylon's head shot to look where it came from and instinctively ducked under the table. It was instinctive now. He turned the night vision on his camera and shuffled towards the room. The lights were all on and the door was still barricaded up, had there been someone in here that they hadn't noticed before? And for them to get the drop on Eddie of all people. Shivers shot down his spine and was already starting to panic.  
“Eddie.” He whispered harshly, switching to regular filming he peered into the kitchen and saw Eddie laid on the floor looking at the ceiling, there were a few pots and pans nearby scattered. “Eddie what the hell happened?”  
“I found the cook's backpack.”  
“...Why are you on the floor?”  
“I found what was _in_ the cook's backpack.” Waylon set the camera on the preparation table in the middle of the room and glanced in the bag. Lo and behold, it was a head. The eyes were wide and the mouth stuck in a silent scream. The programmer yelped and threw the bag, covering his mouth. The head partially rolled out, just revealing the mass of blood matted hair. Thankfully, not the expression.  
“Who in the--” He put his clenched fist to his mouth and bit down on his index finger's knuckle, just collecting himself for a few moments. “I thought this sort of thing didn't bother you?”  
“It's nothing.” Eddie sat up, rubbing his lower back and wincing. “I thought.. You won't get it.”  
“Won't get what?” he sighed as he leant down, attempting to help Eddie to his feet. He'd almost forgotten that the man was in his mid-forties. He was in good shape, if he were a regular forty something then yeah, that would have probably been worse. “I've seen some pretty awful things, I think I can stretch my imagination.”  
“I thought it was talking to me.”  
“What did it say?”  
“That's not important. It spoke to me and I haven't had hallucinations that vivid in a long time.” He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, shrugging Waylon off. “Caught me off guard.”  
“...If you wanna take something we've got..”  
“I'll save them for the road. It's fine.” Waylon took a step back, letting the man walk past him and grab the bag, shaking until the head rolled out and under the table near by. “Go, sit. I'll get the food.”

Waylon settled at the table, he wished there was a clock but he was also content that there wasn't. If there was he'd probably see the time and want to immediately sleep. He didn't feel quite so awful after having something to eat but he did still feel like he'd been punched in both eyes. There was a warmth in the air as Eddie returned, setting two coffee cups down, dusted off the bench and sat opposite Waylon. He looked at him intently before he took a sip. It was unnerving when he did it. He was convinced Eddie was working out all the ways he could kill him.  
“You were reading my file earlier, weren't you?” Waylon was about to speak but Eddie put his hand up to stop him. “I don't want you to tell me your sorry. Everyone was sorry enough when it happened, but it didn't stop them from ignoring my mother's pleas for help for nearly most of my life at that point. Back then people thought kiddie fiddlers were weirdos that hung around in parks in trench coats. My mother was written off as hysterical and for while was blamed for why I kept showing up to the hospital after my father and uncle decided it'd be a great idea to drink themselves stupid and get pissed at us. For years I watched and endured as they beat the two of us. They told me that I was too soft and it was my mother's fault. A real man could take what he wanted, do what he wanted. He was his own master.”  
Waylon wanted to ask him why the women he killed. But given he'd been searching out 'women' as the Groom to kill, that sort of behaviour is learned. Just like the kids that go into schools and shoot everyone because their privilege said they should have everything.  
“What happened to her?”  
“She reached the end of her tether.” He shrugged, though his shoulders were tensed. “Lashed out, being that there were two of them they overpowered her and killed her. Cops didn't come sniffing around for her until one of her friends hadn't seen her for days. Found us in the barn. It was messy and from that day on I hated every single person in that stupid backwater town. She'd told them for years but they never listened. My father told me until they found her that that's what happens to a disobedient whore or an ungrateful slut. Those were always his favourite things to say.” He paused, waiting for the penny to drop with Waylon. It had it him almost instantly.  
“Didn't they offer you counselling?”  
“Oh no, it was still 'nut up and shut up', everyone just looked at me with these sad eyes from then on. No one offered to take me in because it was such an unpleasant thing to have happened in their backyard. Mental health wasn't something people considered a legitimate worry. When people thought of the mentally ill they still saw padded walls and blasting them with cold water or electroshock therapy; which they did actually still practice here.”  
“They needed their patients stressed and worse off not better..”  
“Exactly. Now if you'll forgive me that's the last I want to speak about this.” He picked up his coffee cup and drained it in several large gulps. Waylon watched as his adam's apple bobbed, not even stopping to take a breath. He had to wonder if he wished that was something a little stronger than espresso, probably more like whiskey.  
“If you want to talk about it..”  
  
“Talk about what, darling?” As the coffee cup hit the table he was met with bright alert eyes and a broad smile. Waylon sucked on his lips. Eddie had this habit of running away, though now he had a better idea of why. He knew Eddie was conniving and no doubt trying to play to his better nature to get him to keep him around and help. But he'd given him the keys to the proverbial kingdom but not warned him about any of the traps that were still very much active.  
“Oh, um.. well, I wanted to go to the chapel.”  
“Really?” The Groom sat bolt upright, leaning over the table to grasp Waylon's hands. “I thought you wanted to take it slow.”  
“You've been so good to me..” He fought back the urge to wrestle his hands free, it was easier to meet his gaze, though it was still unsettling. “I knew I wouldn't find anyone else as.. caring.”  
“Darling, you're a gem.” The smile seemed to reach his eyes this time. “Oh, but you'll need a dress. Yes, Father Martin's always there, I'm sure he'd give us a lovely ceremony.”  
“I don't mind, as long as we visit the chapel.”  
“Nonsense, a woman's day is only as stunning as her dress. I have just the thing” He stood up excitedly, hoisting Waylon to his feet. He circled him a few times, humming. Was he taking his measurements by a glance? “Yes, it may be a little too big at the waist and hips, but nothing a few adjustments can't fix.”  
Waylon's heart sank, did that mean going all that way back to the Vocational block. He'd only just gotten here, this was a milestone and they were going to traipse all the way back?  
“Does this mean we have to.. go back to your home?” Waylon's brows dipped.  
“Of course, I'm not going to just leave it lying around for _anyone_ to get their hands on.” The Groom took a hold of Waylon's wrist, eyes ablaze with excitement. “I can't wait to see you in it. No, I mustn't. It would spoil the surprise. But I must see that it fits.”  
“I'm very tired.. can I rest here for a while before we return..?”  
“I can't leave you here, what if that brute finds you. Darling, I couldn't possibly have that on my conscience. You must stay with me, I can keep you safe. You said so yourself.” He took Waylon's hands again, pulling him into a crushing embrace. “I can't possibly bear to think what would happen to you.”  
“I can block myself in, Chris is too big to fit through a barricade of tables.” Waylon put his palms on The Groom's chest, giving himself enough room to breathe. “You'll only be a little while, right?”  
“Trying to be brave for me, aren't you?” the man's smile was fixated, to the point Waylon was wondering if he was even seeing him as he really was any longer. In the past he'd demanded that he make his brides perfect.. now he seemed to be completely content with getting married as he was and then running away. Maybe the Groom wasn't quite as clueless as Eddie thought he was.  
“I'm also genuinely tired. I've been awake for so long I can't remember how long I've been awake for. Please, can I stay here?”  
The Groom looked torn by the dilemma, he had to keep his bride to be at his side by all times, an yet she clearly didn't want to return. He pressed a kiss to Waylon's neck and he _wished_ he hadn't felt a shiver down his spine.  
“I'll help you build a blockade, I'll get the dress and I can put in a few stitches to bring it in.. yes it'll probably need some small darts.” The Groom looked at Waylon, waiting for his response, and Waylon put on the best smile he could. “Just because it's you, darling.”

 

In the time that The Groom had gone, Waylon found a patch of floor that wasn't sodden from the sprinklers. It was by a radiator that miraculously was still working. He laid his head down and closed his eyes, the comfortable lure of sleep allowed him to drift off almost the minute he did. He didn't dream, ironic given the Morphogenic Engine was all about lucid dreaming. His sleep wasn't troubled, but it also wasn't all that long either. He knew he wouldn't get a full eight hours and yet when he opened his eyes and found his head resting on Eddie's thigh, half asleep himself, he'd wished he could. He hadn't seen him drift off before, and he had a feeling that he'd only allow himself a minimal time slot for sleep. He probably specialised in power naps. He huddled closer, even if he stunk he was a walking radiator. He lost track of how long he was laid there, listening to Eddie's subdued breathing. He took deep quiet breaths, if his chest wasn't moving then he wouldn't have even realised that he was alive. The man jolted eyes shooting awake. His pupils dilated and narrowed to the size of pin heads in a matter of moments as he blinked the sleep away. He glanced down at Waylon and that pleased smile returned.  
“Oh, darling I am so glad you're awake. I was starting to worry I'd really dreamed the whole thing.”  
“I'm still here.” He spoke quieter to this one, he'd began to realise. Even if Eddie was abrasive and crass, he didn't feel like he was playing Minesweeper on Hell mode.  
“Are you ready to try the dress on?”  
“Am I going to wear it to the chapel?” Waylon rolled onto his back so he could look up at Eddie. It was still pitch black outside, the only light was from a few bulbs that had survived the fire. “This place is so dirty, surely it'd be better to put it on closer?”  
“I doubt you would find anywhere suitable, darling. We're in Walker's territory here, I did tell you it was safer in my home.. ah, but the chapel is so beautiful.. It makes up for it. I shall just have to be more careful with you.” The Groom bent over himself to kiss Waylon. The act caught him completely unaware and he had to make himself relax. So he sent all of his tension to his feet as his toes curled. His breath was stale and suffering from a bad base of morning fuzz. But that had to have been a combination of the medication, horrific food and no sign of tooth brushes. That and he kissed awfully. When The Groom pulled away he put on his best smile, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth on the back of his arm. “But before we try it on you we'll have to get you ready.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Darling I don't mean to be personal, I know these barbarians haven't allowed you such luxuries, but you are a little.. unkempt. I can't think of anything worse than seeing a Bride with leg stubble under her dress.” _Fuck this_. Waylon's brows dipped. “And not to mention your underarms. Such dark hair contrasting with your dress, I can't bear the thought.”  
“I'm.. fine really thank you.”  
“Nonsense, you must look your best otherwise I'm not taking you there.” He didn't growl, but it was definitely an indignant tone. “I'm not marrying what our guests might mistake for a washed up strumpet I happened upon in the gutter.”  
Waylon sat up and ran a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. He didn't know how women dealt with men like this in a normal setting, but this was ridiculous. Yes, leg hair did still look strange to him on women at times, but Lisa had been very blunt about how when the boys came along, keeping her legs hair free wasn't the top of her priorities.  
“I can take a shower?” Waylon offered, The Groom however didn't seem to be budging on the matter.  
“Of course, but we'll have to do something about the hair.”

The shower door a floor down had been barricaded after the clear out of variants. A few choice words had been exchanged, but Waylon had found himself sat on a bucket in a stall being attentively showered by his 'husband to be'. He'd rolled his sleeves up at first, but his shirt and waistcoat had been discarded and left draped over the stall as he started work on shaving Waylon's facial hair. His body hair, in general, wasn't especially dark, but according to the Groom it had to go, no questions asked. He was shaving him with a straight edge razor and was clearly very skilled because despite expecting to find himself looking like a freshly carved chunk of meat after he'd shaved both of his legs, there wasn't a single scratch. Further words were exchanged about The Groom getting to his underarms and chest with the razor and yet again, he found himself giving up and letting the man do what he wanted. Unfortunately, he didn't have anything for aftercare and found that his underarms itched and were left just that little bit raw. He could have slashed his throat at any point and yet he still looked at him so earnestly with joy. Thankfully Gluskin was so offended by the sight of penises that he left his pubic hair well alone, that didn't mean that he didn't glare at it when it came into his line of vision. It almost felt like he was issuing a silent threat of 'soon' to it. He left Waylon to dry off as he started washing his shirt. The water that came away from it looked rancid, the bloodstains were especially unwilling to be scrubbed away, leaving rust coloured patches from what was probably arterial spray. Waylon tried not to glance over at him too much, the poorly lit room managed to illuminate his muscular form enough to remind him if things got ugly he'd have to be clever. _Just insist on going to the chapel, that's all I need to do. Idiot, you didn't tell me what to do afterwards._  
The Groom shook his shirt several times, the wet slap of fabric catching Waylon's attention as he pulled on his jumpsuit. At least showering whilst sat on the bucket kept his stitches dry. They weren't nearly quite so angry as they'd been a few hours ago. Still sore, and now a little itchy but that was to be expected. They returned to the cafeteria in silence, The Groom was concentrating heavily on making the dress sit properly. It pinched around the chest, but that tightness was what was serving to actually hold the dress up. He hadn't been lying when he said it was going to be a little too big around the hips and waist, but the darts had gone in with little complaint. It was a delicate and neat hand stitch which made the dress emphasise a more feminine shape like it was supposed to do in the first place. The Groom beamed at him, admiring his handiwork.  
“You look perfect, darling. I can't wait for Father Martin to marry us.” He circled Waylon with the camera, which made him wince and note to edit this section out of the video. If he even got out.  
“I'm.. happy.” He smiled, following him with a reserved look. At any moment he was expecting him to smack him in the head and drag him off to make the cut he knew he wanted to be making. It wasn't discussed at all. The tune he was humming was the same as the awful vinyl that was playing when he saw the 'Saatchi bait' as Eddie had described it. “I think we need a better song.”  
“What's wrong with this one?”  
“You have your girl. We're going to the Chapel and we're going to get married.” He regretted it instantly because all he could hear was Bette Midler cheerily talking about the big day. His song Lisa had chosen was something by in indie singer-songwriter, upbeat but also slow. They'd debated something more mainstream, Waylon had liked the Corrs but Lisa said it was too overdone and everyone said the Corrs' songs were 'their' songs. She had a point.  
“Yes.. Yes how did that one go?” The Groom looked up slightly, humming the tune trying to remember how it went. All Waylon could remember was the damned chorus which just repeated itself over and over again.  
Once Eddie recalled the tune he sung it loudly, rather than the dulcet tones he sung under his breath before. The man looked absolutely ecstatic. As they left the safety of the cafeteria, The Groom looped their arms, singing loudly as they marched towards the administrative block. They managed to avoid just about anything that came their way. Perhaps word of who the Groom was had spread to all the corners of the asylum and it was enough to keep them away. But a glance behind him, Waylon saw a small cluster of Variants following them. It was the same cryptic whispering he'd heard when he'd hidden in the locker at the dispensary. The Variants knew they were safe from Gluskin, because the Groom finally had a Bride.  
_This had better be my ticket out of here_..

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Only two more days,  
> to kill the mess we've made.  
> And give the lions something to hunt for.  
> Cause now the ace is played,  
> the jester and the queen of spades.  
> There's nothing left for us to hope for.
> 
> And I'd run to the furthest place I need to,  
> just to hear you laugh.  
> Cause I need to find out  
> how it feels to be broken in two halves  
> Oh.  
> And do you think I'd run out on you now?  
> Cause we're still young if we pretend.  
> Can we go back to when broken things only needed plasters to mend."  
> Gabrielle Aplin - More Than Friends  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	6. Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Waylon cross paths with a certain inmate, though things don't go quite the way he thought they would. The Groom's special day is ruined by the machinations of a Priest seeking rebirth through flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh have some heart and hold it to your chest,  
> We weren't in love, we were too young.  
> We throw our words around as if they were not gold,  
> Well they are.
> 
> Oh maybe someday I'll be something more,  
> Real with arms and legs so I can walk away and stay away forever and some more  
> Some more.
> 
> Stick around to watch this town fall down on to it's knees,  
> You can pray the day that you hope is coming round real soon.  
> I will run and stay away in a place I don't know well of,  
> You can choose a different song that you will soon love."

It was astounding just how much of the building had collapsed, getting to the Administration block was hard enough, let alone wearing the ridiculous dress. At points The Groom had picked him up and carried him across parts that were delicate, studying the floor and where he stepped. The deeper they got the further from the crowd of Variants they got, Waylon couldn't tell if they were going to find their own way or if they knew what laid ahead, either way it unsettled him deeply. So many dangerous patients roaming, at first he thought he only had to worry about the cannibal and Eddie, then lo and behold, Walker and the naked Twins were added to the mix. Part of him wondered if any of these big bads actually communicated with one another at some point. What would happen if they butted heads, would anyone make it out alive either side?  
“We'll have to go single file here darling.” The Groom set Waylon down in front of a destroyed patch of floor that went down what had to be at least two floors. He couldn't see the bottom and his heart skipped a beat. Before he came here he'd never really had the opportunity to learn whether he was afraid of heights and rapidly that was becoming a yes, although it was more apt to say he was scared of the fall. He hitched up the bottom of his dress and pressed himself to the wall, shuffling slowly as the wood creaked. Goosebumps prickled up his arm, all the way to the nape of his neck. How was Eddie doing this without worrying about falling, how was he so focused? Though he was getting what he wanted of course he was going to be doing everything he could to make sure they reached the chapel. And yet, this part of Eddie had said he just wanted a legacy and a family, get it just looked like an excuse for carnage. Had he ever really gotten this far, had any of the other victims said they wanted to marry him? Perhaps Eddie didn't tell him what to expect simply because he had no idea himself.  
Once Waylon reached the end of the ledge he looked at the next step of the obstacle course. There was a thick support beam that had tipped, leading to a doorway. Waylon grimaced and glanced back to Eddie.  
“Maybe we should find another way..”  
“Don't worry darling, you're more than capable.”  
“I don't know.. if I was wearing my other clothes this might be a bit easier. Wedding dresses aren't made for athletic feats.”  
“You're worrying too much.” He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed just a little too hard. _We've come too far for him to back out now. I know you can hear me. Delicately. Don't scare him off you fricking idiot. We need him._ The Groom shook his head and blinked down at his hand, watching Waylon tense under his grip and quickly let go. “Would you like me to go first?”  
“..Yes.” He nodded slowly. He knew something had just happened, the way The Groom looked around for someone else. It raised the question of whether the two sides of Mr. Gluskin were capable of communication, or if either of them had that much control over themselves. Lucid dreaming surely didn't apply to mental illness, they were two completely unrelated parts of the brain.  
The Groom nodded and took a few steps back, he bolted and leapt, landing thoroughly two thirds of the way up the beam. It was surprisingly sturdy if it could take a man of his structure landing heavily on it, so it had to be alright.  
“I'll catch you darling, I promise.” The Groom held his hands out, beckoning Waylon to jump to him. “We've come this far, I know you're capable. You've done so well, you can make it darling, please.”  
He took a deep breath, keeping his gaze fixated on Eddie and the beam, if he looked down he knew he'd be done for. He closed his eyes and stepped back as far as he could before he found the edge of the wall again, he hitched up his dress and charged. He propelled forwards, knocking straight into Eddie causing the two of the to fall onto the solid patch of floor by the doorway. Waylon heaved a breath, clutching to the other tightly, as he'd passed through the air he was fairly sure he stopped breathing. The Groom coughed under him, a slight chuckle and patted his back.  
“See, darling, not too difficult.” Really he wished that Eddie was capable of doing a King Kong; hoist him up and just jump the ledges with him under his arm. Strong as he was, there was no way he was _that_ strong. And he'd probably be terrified about being dropped anyway.  
“I'm not doing that again.”  
“Hopefully we won't have to.”

Thankfully the last jump was only a gap with something secure, a door that lead to a corridor. What Waylon hadn't noticed before was that the walls were covered in blood, but not just the usual spattering, there were arrows and messages. Sort of like Eddie's 'Love makes a house a home' or 'a woman's work is never done' littering his area. Though he doubted he'd made those with his own blood. Once again, Eddie cleared the gap with little trouble, encouraging Waylon to follow after him. The planks looked wrecked, like someone had just missed the jump, bloody hand prints that scrabbled on the boards. His heart sunk once more, but at least he had the opportunity for more of a run up this time. Waylon swung the first aid bag off and flung it across the gap at Eddie, he caught it and shoved it into the bloody backpack.  
First the steps back, and then the jump, although this time he didn't judge the gap well enough. He felt himself falling too soon and howled. Everything felt like it was in slow motion despite how quickly he was falling, he braced himself for the pile of wood beneath him, even if the drop wasn't far he'd had enough of long drops. He jolted to a stop as Eddie caught his wrist, half bent over.  
“I'm going to lower you down darling, put your feet on the floor and I'll pull you up.” He grunted, honestly Waylon had partly wished he'd just let him drop. His shoulder was in agony at the sudden stop, but the thought was appreciated. As his feet touched the ground he heard a loud slam from the next room over. His face blanched as a familiar rattling of chains rung out.  
“Eddie. Eddie please pull me up now!” He scrambled to top of the wood pile, struggling to reach Eddie's hand. The dress had snagged on splinters.  
“I hear a little rat...” The sniffing grew louder and Waylon knew that he was right under the light. There was no hiding. Eddie practically flung himself down flat, and grabbed Waylon's hands. If he didn't have the fingerless gloves then the sweat on his palms would have broken their grip. Steadily he shifted, supporting himself up on one knee, trying to hoist Waylon up.  
“You don't have to hide from me.” Walker growled, kicking the door down and spotting the two. He paused, as the two looked him dead in his glossed over eyes. _No Chris, I really think we do_. Waylon tried to get footing and scramble up. Walker didn't seem to be too interested, which Waylon found incredibly odd. Was it because he didn't have a camera or was it because he knew he couldn't keep up with them. “Must contain the contamination.”  
“Your little piggy isn't here, Walker.” Eddie snarled back, managing to get to his feet as he pulled Waylon up onto the upper floor. “On your way and we'll be on ours.”  
Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to say, as Waylon retrieved the first aid bag he watched Walker stomp back the way he came. From what Eddie had said, there was an element of him that was still in control, he didn't want the Morphogenic Engine's results to get out, keep the contamination in. He genuinely thought he was saving people. So why did he spare them? Was it because they weren't dressed like the other inmates or doctors? Eddie didn't give him time to think on it, fishing out the camera from the first aid bag.  
“The lights are out down here, darling, we'll need that.”  
  
There was a time that Waylon thought Eddie was more than comfortable traversing the asylum without a torch or anything, but it occurred to him that was in an area he knew well. This was probably all fairly new to him. Waylon nodded, switching over to night vision mode. The Groom didn't take the camera away from him instead sticking close to Waylon, letting the younger man hold onto his arm as they shuffled through the darkness. He gripped Eddie's arm tightly and received kisses to the top of his hair every once in a while. He hated how he found comfort in it. Not to mention after the trip to the showers Eddie didn't smell quite so stale, he just smelt of the industrial soap that was littered around. Perhaps he was capable of scrubbing up nicely. Now he was just in danger of believing his own bullshit. The darkness began to break, another hole in the floor lead to a brightly lit corridor. It looked like offices and Waylon couldn't keep the smile off his face. The Groom let go of his arm and jumped down the hole, holding his arms up beckoning Waylon to let him catch him. He felt like it would have been a slightly off front cover for The Notebook at this rate, all they needed was a water pipe to burst on them.  
What Waylon did find odd as he got his bearings was how untouched this area was, what was more unsettling was the smell in the air. Was there another fire somewhere? Eddie didn't seem too flapped by it, instead following all the signs for the chapel. He all but broke into a full out sprint, dragging Waylon behind him. Again with the Bette Midler, if he wasn't short of breath it wouldn't have been such an awful rendition. His grin and pace began to slow as they got closer, up the staircase they entered the corridor that lead to the chapel. The doors were reinforced glass and all wide open. There was the odd blood stain every once in a while. The blood arrows had stopped about a floor down instead the smudges were on the arrows on the placards that pointed to the chapel. That was when the smoke started. Eddie's grin was replaced with a look of abject horror, he dropped his grip on Waylon's hand and bolted ahead, leaving the programmer to hobble behind him. The Groom turned a corner and he heard him cry out. Waylon's pace slowed down, covering his mouth as the corridor grew thicker with smoke. The Twins were stood either side of the double doors and Waylon tried his very best to keep looking at their faces. Dead ahead of him was a sight that made his blood run cold. The howling and screaming had long since stopped. But there was a body hanging from a crucifix burning filling the room with a putrid scent. Standing in the way was a man with messy dark hair pulled into a stubby little pony tail. He was recording what was happening, was that.. who he thought it was?  
  
“This was supposed to be perfect!” The Groom howled, shoving the man with the camera aside. “Don't you dare, don't you dare die! You were supposed to marry us! We were supposed to have a life together and you _ruined it_. You selfish piece of shit!”  
The man with the camera backed away until he caught a glimpse of Waylon. He stared at him and Waylon's mouth pressed into a firm line.  
“Can.. you not film me. This is embarrassing enough for me.” He sighed, and that was when he caught a glimpse of the tag on his jacket. _Miles Upshur_. “Wait- you're Miles?”  
“You're clearly not with these-” Miles stopped himself as he glanced at the Twins scowling. “Guys. Who are you?”  
“My name is Waylon Park. I was the one who sent you the email.”  
Miles' face blanched for a moment, glancing between Waylon and The Groom who was howling at the burning effigy of a man. He wasn't sure what to say, he was missing fingers, bleeding from probably a few fights. His face turned to thunder and Waylon braced himself. The shouting grew louder and Miles was pushed aside once more as Eddie grabbed Waylon by the front of the dress.  
“You _knew_ this would happen! You never wanted us to get married did you?! You fucking whore!” His eyes were wide with fury, brows creased and baring his teeth. And yet, despite it all, Waylon didn't seem to care that The Groom was shaking him. He'd come this far, this close to the exit and now it was all for naught. He'd stepped on that mine that took out the entire board by simply existing. “You just wanted to take me for a joke didn't you?! I should have know. A slut with children and no father to take care of them, I didn't want to believe that about you, but you're just like the rest of them aren't you?”  
Miles scrambled to his feet, watching the exchange. Inside he was screaming for Waylon to struggle, or fight back, but he watched as Waylon laid limp in Eddie's grip, tears rolling down his face. Had he resigned himself to death? Not until he'd had words with him. Not on his watch. Whilst Waylon may have been the reason for all he'd been through here, he was right to get the word out. Like him, he needed to survive this and let the world see what Murkoff really was. The smoke grew thicker, spreading from the pyre to the surrounding pews, either he could run or he could break this up and have someone else to verify his own story, not that the footage he'd gotten couldn't speak for itself. He didn't think as he barrelled into the side of Eddie, knocking Waylon from his grip.  
“Enough! Martin said he was going to show me something. He screwed us all over! But he gave me a way out. We can leave this shit hole.” Miles tried to stand firm, staring down the brute who couldn't believe what had just happened.  
“This.. this is why you lead me here.” Eddie began quietly. “You didn't want to marry me, you were here for this upstart.”  
“Eddie, this is the guy I told about what was happening here, he came to help-” Waylon was cut off as Eddie swung a punch to his solar plexus and left him winded. He sunk to the floor on his knees and wheezed, struggling to get the air back into his lungs. He hacked on the smoke. He turned to take a swing at Miles, but the Twins began to rouse from their post, even with Father Martin gone, they knew Miles' purpose he'd been given. He was to release the Walrider. They raised their weapons and Eddie snarled, glancing back down to Waylon.  
“This is a fitting end for a bitch like you. The only way to purify sin is through fire, so stay here and fucking burn you worthless slut.” The Groom stormed out, leaving Waylon alone with Miles, the Twins and the fire.

Waiting for Eddie to leave the area, Miles put a bloodstained hand on Waylon's back. “We need to leave now.” The man looked to be an absolute wreck. He had to wonder just what he'd gone through to wind up mixed up with a guy like that, raving about marriage and how he'd lied. All kinds of stereotypes about what happened to pretty men in prison sprung to mind and Miles found himself grimacing. He had to hope that there was enough of Waylon left in this husk to make sense out of.  
“I'm so tired..”  
“Yeah, I know. Me too, but we gotta go.” Miles sighed, grabbing Waylon's arm and looping it over his shoulder. “My Jeep's outside, if we take the elevator, we can get to the exit. Then we can get the fuck out of this shitty hell hole.”  
He lead Waylon out of the chapel, shooting a glance to the Twins. He'd spent most of his time fleeing from these two, but they were more of a threat to complete Martin's task, they had no need to want to kill him any longer. They forced him to progress he'd come to realise, a trial to test if he was really worthy to be the apostle they needed for the Walrider. They turned the corner, delving deeper into the administrative block. If he didn't have Waylon slowing him down he'd go straight to the elevator, but his new companion looked like he needed time to recover that.. well domestic. He found a bed room and set Waylon on one of the beds, pushing the other in the way of the door. Time to get some answers and learn exactly who'd brought him to hell on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "These are the reasons that haunt me the most.  
> Call off the search, she's coming home,  
> People lie once, but not on the third,  
> Not without reason, not for a girl.
> 
> The names may vary, the names they may change,  
> But the game, the game it stays the same,  
> We love, we want the ones that we will grow to hate, to hate."  
> Gabrielle Aplin - The Liar and The Lighter  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	7. Formal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon Park and Miles Upshur finally get their formal introduction, unaware that a certain Chris Walker is hot on their trail, Waylon wonders if he should really have stayed in Miles' company. The Groom meanwhile discovers something that hits a little bit too close to home and realises that perhaps he may have made an error in judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Flesh and bone wrapped up in skin  
> Kept alive by oxygen  
> But right now breathing is so tough.  
> They say they know what I can feel  
> And time will find a way to heal  
> But right now time is not enough.  
> But then I feel you soaking in  
> I can feel the blood rushing again
> 
> When it’s too hard and too late,  
> When I’m too tired to run away  
> When it can't stay the way it was,  
> I need you ‘cause  
> You smash the trouble I can’t take  
> And all the pieces of the break  
> Evaporate, evaporate, evaporate"

Waylon laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Miles had opened the window, letting fresh air in to dissipate the dull scent of smoke. If it weren't for the smell of burning bodies then perhaps it would have brought him some comfort. He loved the smell of wood smoke, it reminded him of those winter nights up at the cabin he and Lisa stayed in. He thought of simpler times and he couldn't stop the tears that stung his eyes. Why was he even crying? What did it matter? He was free right? He just needed to go down an elevator and the door would be open, Miles had told him he'd take him home. So why did he feel so empty right now? Why didn't Eddie warn him? They were going to leave together, he was going to.. He didn't even know what he was going to do. But he'd promised he'd help him, somehow.  
  
“So.. what did you do before you worked for Murkoff?” Miles rubbed his upper arm trying to break the silence between them.  
“What?” Waylon sniffed thickly, making a small noise of disgust at himself. He glanced over at the journalist. He had fairly scruffy stubble going on, thick rich brown hair, he probably would have thought how handsome he was before all this mess, now all he could think was how him being the state he was in was his fault. Despite how attentive he seemed, there was a hollowness about his eyes, how long had Miles been in Mount Massive?  
“I never thought I'd find you here, really. You've seen how far gone these maniacs are, I figured you'd have been amongst the bodies.” There was a shake in his hands, a twitchiness about him. Mount Massive had most definitely gotten to him too. Walker was right, it was a contamination. Whatever this place touched turned to shit. It corrupted them and brought out the worst in them.  
“I'm so sorry I got you dragged into this.” His hands covered his eyes, wiping away the tears. “I should be. By every right after everything I've done.”  
“Hey, hey now. Don't talk like that. You called Murkoff out on their shit. You don't deserve a dog's death.”  
“But I fixed the machine.” He hiccuped, exhaling harshly. “I was hand picked, they wanted me to maintain the computers, keep the code running smoothly. The only reason I called them out was because I couldn't contact my wife and kids. From then on I got angry at them, I wanted to find something to hurt them with, something I'd know and have to use so I could. Lisa got so worried. I sent you the email and then they wanted me to fix the machine. The man I was with, I did that to him. I fixed the Morphogenic Engine's coding and watched as they pumped him full of nanomachines. Shit--” He sobbed. “How do you atone for that? They caught me, I hadn't been careful enough and they incarcerated me, put me into the ME programme. Then you came and.. shit what even happened to you? How did you lose your fingers?”  
“A sack of white collar shit called Trager. He got juiced for his troubles.” Miles didn't bother to keep the small smirk that crept onto his features away. “Still want to key his fucking car though. I wish I could see his face if he saw it.”  
Waylon's brows dipped, Mount Massive got into everyone's heads. “Trager was one of the Developers before he started his experimental surgery. I never met him, thankfully. But he was bosom buddies with Jeremy Blaire. He was the one who got me put away. He was like the devil in a suit. There wasn't a single scrap of humanity in him.”  
“Is he dead?”  
“No. I don't know. I don't care. If he is it's too good for him.” Waylon's breathing steadied, still littered with strobe like breaths.  
“You.. mind if I ask what the dress is about?” Miles watched Waylon sit up. If it was on a woman, he'd have probably said they looked gorgeous. But Waylon wouldn't have fooled anyone into thinking he was a woman. His upper arms were too shapely, shoulders too broad. As he studied him he noticed darker roots of his hair, a dark almost black brown, contrasting with the slightly honey coloured 'bronde' or whatever they were calling it these days. His eyebrows were thick but maintained, framing his almond shaped eyes (though his irises were a dull green) yeah the guy was definitely a bit metro-sexual. Probably went to a white collar university himself if he'd been called in to help maintain the computers. The man he'd seen him with must have done a hell of a number on him.  
“He's been in and out of prisons and asylums for a long time. His name is Eddie Gluskin-”  
“The Gluskin who went on a spree of carving women up?”  
“Yeah.” Waylon didn't want to let Miles dwell on it, he didn't really want to be answering questions about why he'd been helping a psychopathic murderer. “I found him and he was going to try to.. turn me into a woman. I'd seen what he'd done to other people, but he remembered me. When he'd broken free from the wardens and begged me for help. I think he wanted to do worse to me than just cut my dick off and try to carve a vagina into me.”  
“He.. what?”  
“The Groom, that's the part of him you met. The Morphogenic Engine warped him, made his trauma manifest itself into this persona. He claimed he wanted a legacy and children so he could be a better father than his own, but what he was really doing was creating more women to kill. I think.. some of them were doctors and wardens. He had keys to just about everywhere in the asylum. He had a key to the stair well and the front door, but The Groom stopped him from leaving. He promised me he'd help me leave if I convinced the Groom to leave with me.”  
“...You were going to let a known killer out into the world just so you could escape?” Miles seemed to have lost his train of logic somewhere along the line and was looking at him with a certain degree of disgust.  
“I don't know. I just wanted to get out and see my wife and kids again. Knowing I had children was the only thing that kept me from being killed by him. He was my only way out. I didn't know what to do. I had to fix what I'd done to him. I had to make it right.” His hands covered his face as he broke down once again. Miles heaved a sigh, setting his own camera aside.  
“I think you've been buying into his bullshit for a little too long. It's what abusive assholes do.” He got up and sat next to Waylon, “They get in your head. Make you think things are your fault, it's what keeps you under their thumb. If you hadn't coded that machine, Murkoff would have gotten someone else to and you'd have been dumped in the asylum anyway. You were just trying to survive. He's a hypocrite, he'd have done the exact same thing to you in your position.”  
“But...”  
“It's not your job to fix him. Guy was fucked up long before you came along, you just gave him something else to blame. Yeah, it's fucking disgusting what Murkoff have done to him, but you don't have to answer for that.”  
“Maybe I should never have said anything. Should have just let this place fall to pieces around me.”  
“You've said it yourself, you've got a family waiting for you. We're gonna get out of here, we're gonna drag Murkoff for everything they've done and then you can ride off into the sunset with your family with that warm fuzzy go fuck yourself feeling as Murkoff burns. I sure as hell know I'm gonna love watching the court battles on this one, especially with my evidence submitted.” Miles smirked, as much as he'd suffered, it had only urged him onwards. He grew stronger the more they kicked at him. Waylon admired him and his resolve. “Stick with me, we'll be alright. And.. you know find you some other clothes. Don't think your wife's gonna want her first sight of you after you've been away for god knows how long to be in a wedding dress.”  
“...The neighbours will talk.”  
“Exactly.” Miles slapped him on the back. The way his face twisted made Waylon realise that his hands probably still stung like nobody's business. “-Public ridicule's always a strong motivation to not do something. Shitting hell, that hurt..”  
“Let me patch you up.”

The two stayed in the confines of the room for a little while, Waylon delicately bandaged up Miles' hands and he spent the entire time recounting everything he'd seen to Waylon. How the Variants were mumbling that Wernicke was still very much alive. How this had been picked up from the Nazis, what the purpose of the Walrider was. Waylon listened and felt a weight on his chest once more, without realising he'd had such a hand in this. How it somehow affected everyone involved. The two decided it would be best to keep on moving as soon as possible. Even after crying so much in one day Waylon didn't feel completely better about the situation, but he found a strength in Miles' upbeat attitude, even if it was peppered with a bitterness. Even with his hands mangled the way they were he carried on shifting the bed away from the door. He winced but the pain didn't seem to be registering or he just didn't care anymore. What did however make him care was heavy footsteps in the corridor outside.  
“Oh _come on_.” Miles harshly whispered, beckoning for Waylon to get down and under the bed.

 

As The Groom stalked through the administration block he tore painting from the wall, howling and throwing them at whatever was nearby. He should have carved that whore to pieces. He should have dealt with her when he first met her. She'd been lying from the start, of course she didn't have children, she was just playing up to his better nature. And he'd played right into her hands. He was a fool. He was a simpering fool. Never again. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this to himself again, he wouldn't let a woman close to him ever again. She'd been so kind, but it was a lie all along. He howled and punched the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. Swinging his arm along a table with a wilting flower pot on it. It flew against the back wall and shattered. The other Variants fled, screaming warning the others in their nonsensical babbling. He stormed down the stairs, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He wanted the place to burn with the chapel. Everything needed to burn. Be done with. Everything had to be gone and purified.  
He found himself deep within the offices. The lights still worked and despite the fire raging in the chapel the fire alarm wasn't making a peep. Each section was bordered off into workspaces, each decorated with personal effects. Minimal but it was enough. He ripped one computer out of its station and threw it out the nearby window. His rage bubbled violently in his veins, there needed to be blood. He needed to feel bones straining and shattering under his hands, blood to soak his fingers and to rip their beating heart from their chest. Crush it in his palm and tear them asunder. As he approached the door at the end of the office something caught his eye.  
One office away from the others and marked into the frosted glass were the words: _WAYLON PARK_. His rage hit boiling point and forced the door open, punching through the glass not paying any heed to the shards in his knuckles. He opened it from the inside and let himself in. It was swelteringly hot compared to the rest of the building. On the desk were picture frames, post it notes and emails that had been printed off scattered in a messy pile. The post it notes had rushed scrawlings of equations he couldn't even begin to decipher, coding around the screen and then dates circled on the flip calendar on the wall. 'Benji starts school' was in red and 'Max goes back to school' a week later. His brows dipped and grabbed a photo frame from the top of the cabinet. The photo was disgusting. It was of Waylon, another woman with dark thick frizzy hair, medium tanned skin and freckles, and two young boys. They had their father's eyes- The Groom shook his head, squinting at the picture further. It had to have been recent, the traces of darker roots weren't as obvious as they were now. He sucked on his lower lip. Who was this woman? The husband she'd- He'd spoken of.. he'd meant his wife. He was a father. He'd been trying to get back for them. He'd fixed the coding because he needed an opportunity to get away safely back to them. His head felt like it was on fire. The Groom stumbled back, falling into the leather office chair, clutching his head. It felt like it was in a vice, something was crushing it. He heaved for air. As he flailed, he knocked the mouse and saw email after email appearing on his screen. All were labelled from 'Lisa'. _Where are you? Murkoff said you're ill, I don't believe them. I'll get you out baby just hold on._ Eddie's eyes widened as he scrolled through, the last email he'd been able to send to her had been a couple of days ago. The computer said it was around 4am, the 13th of September 2013. How long had _he_ been here? How long had Murkoff had their claws in his brain just pushing him until he snapped? What had he been doing? His stomach lurched and he staggered out of the office, clutching his stomach. Whatever he'd been able to ingest earlier had been violently rejected and he emptied his stomach into a waste basket. His eyes pricked at the effort it took, everything inside him began hurting as he hacked, trying to clear everything stuck in his throat. Where in the hell had he left him? What had he done?

The ceiling shook, rattling free dust. He could hear screams and heavy foot steps. He gasped for air, trying to pull himself back up to his feet. His eyelids had once felt heavy and now the blood in his veins was singing once more. The static and crackle was clearing. He spat the remnants of his upheaval from his mouth and bolted back the way he'd come. Once upon a time he'd wished nothing more than to watch the man who did this to him die under his blade. Crush his head under his foot. Snap his neck, just something to make him feel better. But no matter how many times he'd eviscerated those that so thoroughly abused him during his stay at Mount Massive, it didn't change anything. The perpetual itch in his skull never shifted, the voices and the hallucinations didn't stop. Even whilst running for his life with the delicate Waylon Park he felt the most relaxed and simultaneously alive. Waylon was always saying how he wanted to make up for it, how he wanted to help, but he shouldn't have been the one apologising. It was Murkoff. It had always been Murkoff. Divide and conquer. Jeremy Blaire had hoped this would have happened. Not on his watch. Not after he'd come so far in such a short time. It was his turn to fix this.  
As he turned corners and bolted up stairs each step was littered with a curse under his breath, keeping in rhythm with his steps. He wasn't properly armed to take down a monster like Chris, he just needed to lead him back to the female ward, it was so rickety that he'd have to be able to do something. But the man was a tank. There also came the trouble of herding Waylon and his new friend to follow him. _You're a fool Gluskin. You're a bloody fool. If he dies this is on your shoulders. This is your fault. You did this._ Think, focus, ignore the voices. He coughed, looking down corridors, trying to find ones that connected to the awful rumble and cries. Waylon should have known better than to make noise when fleeing the Variants, but he must have been on his last legs. He shook his head, following the noise further and further towards the Chapel once more.  
_It's a risk.. but we might be able to use it to our advantage..._ _It'll work, the Groom just needs to play along and not cause any further damage._

He barged past the Twins, who were completely transfixed by the sight of the chapel ablaze It was hot to the touch, but Eddie broke off two fairly thick chunks of wood that were smouldering. Give it enough air and it'll set ablaze like the rest of this place..  
“The Groom has had a change of heart.”  
“I've never seen him so desperate.. Is he truly one of us any longer?”  
“He's forgotten the call of the Walrider.”  
“I would like to kill him.”  
“Eat my shit.” Eddie spat, shoving past them once more, brandishing the burning wood. “Your precious Walrider isn't coming. Your Priest died for nothing. He doesn't care for you or your kind. Stay the fuck out of my way or I'll shove these down your god damn throats.” His eyes were wide and his teeth bared, his voice a low rumbling growl. He was no longer unpredictable Groom seeking vengeance, he was the Apex predator with something to protect. “I'll make sure you feel everything, watching as I tear you both to pieces. Make sure you see how I destroy each of you.”  
“You seek to fight the Soldier?”  
“He's a lost cause.”  
“We shalln't bother ourselves with this one. We seek the lamb.”  
“He must make his ascension.”  
Eddie left the two muttering, finding another Variant lying on the floor. It'd been crushed under Walker's feet in his rampage. Thankfully he had something sharp. Eddie delicately picked it up, holding the burning wood in one hand allowing him to hang it from his belt. His arsenal was growing and whilst he knew it couldn't really stop Walker, it would at least slow him down. The echo of the Groom had grown quiet, restless. He was still heartbroken, but Eddie concluded that his wedding would have to wait for an indeterminate period of time. The Groom was nothing more than a spoilt child, crying out for attention, he wouldn't pay it heed, not now, not if he could help it.

As he shot into the corridor he saw Walker hammering at a door, kicking it in, he searched inside and then started on the next door down. His heart pounded in his throat and he felt like he was going to throw up once more. He had to lead him to the floor below, keep him there long enough for the Chapel floor to give out.  
He howled at the beast of man, shouted slurs and insults, hoping to get his attention. Walker hauled himself from one of the rooms and stared at him. Eddie's stomach bottomed out as he strode towards him, there was a slow menacing pace about him. His vision flickered. Suddenly he wasn't Chris Walker, he was his father wielding his bat. He'd shouted out whilst they beat his mother. He was in his family home and he was suddenly incredibly unprepared for what was about to transpire.  _What did you say to me boy? Are you speaking up for a whore who don't know her place?_ It flickered back to Chris who was still half a corridor away and he began to wonder if he'd made an error in judgement. Behind him he could see Miles and Waylon leaning out of two different rooms.  Waylon went to scream out and Miles' hand slapped over his mouth, hushing him.  
“You want him to come back this way?”  
“But Eddie, he's not moving-- he's going to kill him.” Waylon scrambled and squirmed in Miles' grip, desperate to free himself.  
_Don't fucking talk back to me_. Walker's fist connected with his face and Eddie was propelled to the floor. His head spun and everything was ringing. He hacked and tried to get back to his feet. What confused him was Walker hadn't started trying to turn him into a red streak on the floor. He just stared at him with those clouded eyes. He got to his feet and Walker pulled his arm back to swing a punch. “We have to contain it.”  
The beast of a man was fast, but he was that little more nimble, he barely managed to miss the punch as the brute's fist connected with the dry wall putting a massive hole in it. Thankfully it kept him occupied and stuck for long enough for Eddie to grab the smouldering wood again. He blew on it heavily, breathing the flames back to life as it roared and spat. Just as Walker pulled his fist free from the wall, Eddie swung the burning club into his face. Walker howled and clutched his eyes, roaring like a wounded beast. The first burning club shattered on impact, sending small burning shards flying. It caught a plant and the flames spread slowly, the carpet was slow to catch, the shards only burning contentedly in place. Miles watched in abject horror, unable to quite understand what was going on in front of him. The way Eddie moved around Walker's erratic swings was like watching water. He moved so carelessly and freely, catching his open spots. Watching a fully trained soldier battle a self-trained killer. Eddie fought dirty and he was glad he was on their side.  
  
“Go!” Eddie yelled, smacking Walker a second time with the other burning club. It collided with Walker's forehead scab and he howled progressively louder and louder. Waylon grabbed Miles' hand and shot down the corridor. “Head to the doors. The exit is at the bottom of the stairs.”  
Waylon didn't need telling a second time. The two shot down the stairs, shutting the gate behind themselves.  
“You had your chance!” Walker bellowed, swinging and catching Eddie with a backhanded punch. The man hissed and rolled out of the way as Walker swung both his fists down where he head had been. “It has to be contained! You had your mission. You defected.”  
“I _woke up_ Walker!” He barked, drawing the knife and straight edge razor. “It's time you did too!”  
“We're all infected. We can't let it spread. Can't let it reach the town.” Chris charged at Eddie, trying to push him into the wall. Eddie spun, moving at the absolute last second and planted the knife into Chris' back.  
“I'm going far away from here, far away from Murkoff, far away from your 'Walrider' and never looking back. Stay here and burn with it if you want, but I choose to live.”  
“You have _nothing_ left to live for.” He growled, reaching for the knife in his back and pulled it out. “They made sure of that.”  
“That's not your decision to make.” By the time Chris had unsheathed the knife, Eddie had headed for the door to the stairs and locked it. Chris charged at it and tried to shake it free. Eddie knew it wouldn't last long but it would slow him down. “Not yours, not Murkoff and no one else's.”  
Chris' face was pressed against the grates, rattling it and flinched as Eddie spat in his eyes. He turned and moved down the stairs as quickly as he could. He met Waylon and Miles at the next gate on the floor below. Eddie pulled the key and unlocked it, beckoning them through and locking it behind them. The pattern was solid, they carried on until they reached the bottom floor and Eddie locked the gate. Ahead of them was dawn breaking, the light pouring through the windows. The front doors were barred shut but there was a man in a pristine suit hunched in the way. Perhaps Walker was right in some way, some things did just need to die with this place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I don’t know how the words you say  
> Hold a thousand times more weight  
> Than any word I’ve heard before.  
> But then I feel you soaking in,  
> I can feel the blood rushing again  
> Through my veins, I can feel the pulse begin to race 
> 
> When it’s too hard and too late  
> When I’m too tired to run away  
> When it can’t stay the way it was  
> I need you ‘cause  
> You smash the trouble I can’t take  
> And all the pieces of the break  
> Evaporate, evaporate, evaporate
> 
> Run, run, watch them run away  
> Fly, fly, make them fly away"  
> Gabrielle Aplin - Evaporate  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	8. Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group are forced to scatter. Miles delves deeper into the facility, whilst Eddie takes Waylon back to his office and attempts to mend the fence.
> 
> (Thank you so much for your reviews, I'm glad people are enjoying this as much as I am whilst I write it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The looking glass, so shiny and new  
> How quickly the glamour fades  
> I start spinning, slipping out of time  
> Was that the wrong pill to take? (Raise it up)
> 
> You made a deal, and now it seems you have to offer up  
> But will it ever be enough? (Raise it up, raise it up)  
> It's not enough (Raise it up, raise it up)
> 
> Here I am, a rabbit hearted girl  
> Frozen in the headlights  
> It seems I've made the final sacrifice"

Once, Waylon might have ducked when he spotted someone in the distance. Despite the sunlight pouring in, the overhead lights were all switched on. There was glass all over the floor and Miles sighed. He felt like he was back at square one. Father Martin had promised that the key would lead to the way out but it didn't look like the card key would have worked on the front door. There was only so much you could faff with the door lock and a credit card.  
Waylon stepped forwards with the confidence that came from having two people alongside you and called out. The figure jolted and made a loud noise of frustration.  
“Waylon Park? Is that you?” Waylon recognised the voice and he'd never felt so close to murder in his life. “Mr Park. Fuck how are you still alive?”  
Eddie tried to stop Waylon from approaching, but he moved just a little too fast. There was a look of disbelief and pure hatred on his features that Eddie had never seen. Normally he looked fairly unassuming, but the thunder in his eyes, the way his jaw had set and the way his lips threatened to be split by the almighty snarl that twisted his features. _It's always the quiet ones_.  
“I should ask _you_ the same, Blaire.” Waylon growled. It didn't matter that he was wearing a bloodstained and slightly charred wedding dress , he looked like he was about to drag the man.  
Miles perked up, eyes darting to the man in the business suit. Instead of an expression of abject hatred, Miles looked like he was about to have the absolute time of his life. Eddie wasn't sure which one was worse.  
“As in Jeremy Blaire?” The corners of his lips twitched, lifting his camera. “You know, I once tried to get an interview with you about Murkoff, but I was fobbed off. Now we're caught together perhaps I could get a few words? I find that people are less likely to lie when they know there's the means to hold them accountable for their words.”  
Whilst the two circled Blaire like a pair of wolves about to take down a gimpy deer, Eddie cast his gaze to the stairway behind him. The other two seemed to have forgotten about the rage of Chris Walker in favour of tormenting Blaire, in any other situation he would have let them carry on, but the way his skin crawled as the thudding grew louder and closer meant he was closer than comfort would allow.  
“Do you have anything to say about the wrongful and possibly _illegal_ incarceration of, Mr. Park? Anything about the horrific and exploitative experiments you've been doing upon one of the most vulnerable and misunderstood demographics, the mentally ill?”  
“It doesn't matter now. You're all gonna die in here, so it doesn't matter what I say, because it's not getting out.” Blaire managed through gritted teeth. He was backing away, closer to the door once more. By the looks of things it had been manually bolted from the inside. Murkoff really were adamant about keeping their dirty secrets contained at any cost. “All of you will be gone and this will be swept under the rug.”

The gate at the top of the stairs was broken and Chris charged down the stairs, slamming against the last line of defence they had from his rampage. Eddie's blood ran cold and jolted forwards, grabbing Waylon's arm.  
“We have to go now, or we're not going to like what comes next.”  
“And you even managed to get the compulsive liar on your side. What did you think you were going to gain from it? You think it would have spared you? You were nothing more than a disappointment-”  
Blaire was cut off as Waylon's fist connected with his face. Somehow he'd managed to floor him. The urge to stand on his neck was singing in his veins. If he just held out, he could have his revenge. But the hammering at the gate was enough of a reminder that it wasn't worth it.  
“Do me a favour and _die here_ , Mr. Blaire.” Instead he spat on him and let Eddie drag him away. The area was lit up, but the offices either side of the entrance hall were in total darkness, it was their only shot. Waylon glanced around and saw Miles by the elevator, pressing the call button insistently. “Miles, what are you doing?!”  
“I have to see where this goes. If I'm going to blow this all wide open, better go whole hog huh?” The elevator appeared just in the nick of time for Miles to slip inside, insert the card and slam the grate closed before Chris broke down the gate. The beast of a man hammered at the panelling either side of the elevator as it went deeper into the facility. Waylon almost cried out in protest but Eddie's hand covered his mouth as he dragged him behind a desk in the pitch darkness. All that was left was Jeremy Blaire in the wake of Chris Walker's rampage. The only thing that concerned him was that they both wanted the same thing, even if it was for different reasons. Would Chris turn on him the way that he had the other staff? Eddie wouldn't let Waylon watch. All they could hear was Blaire yelling where Miles had disappeared to and how to get there. It didn't seem to make a difference as there was a loud dull thud and silence.  
“Filth.” The ex-soldier walked away, seemingly following Blaire's instructions despite silencing him. Like Eddie had said earlier, they weren't his original target. Miles was his goal.  
Waylon let go of the breath he was holding and sagged against Eddie's chest. He'd had more than enough near death experiences in the past almost 24 hours to last him his entire life. This entire thing was so fucked up. They'd had their chance to leave but Miles had decided to go deeper into the rabbit hole. Waylon knew what was down there. It was the underground lab where they held the engine itself. Billy Hope had made his ascension, from what he'd gathered and by the creature he'd seen tear the man in the cubicle next to him to shreds, they'd awoken the Walrider. Miles was as good as dead. He'd only met him briefly and yet he still felt overwhelmed by a degree of sadness, he'd brought him here. He'd got him mixed up in it. He shook his head, no, Miles was stronger than he was. If anyone could find a way out, it'd be him.  
“We have to go... I've got something to show you.” Eddie gently detached Waylon from his persons once more and got to his feet. Waylon let himself be guided up.

There was a great deal of things he wanted to say to Eddie at that point in time, but none of them wanted to be verbalised just yet. He was unbelievably angry with him, but for what? For something that was entirely out of his control? Neither of them knew how The Groom was going to react, but he'd managed to get control again and come back to help them. That said more than any of the vitriol the Groom had thrown his way in the chapel. They walked in silence, Eddie gently leading him by the hand and Waylon followed behind, eyes cast to the floor. The climbed the stairs, heading back towards the chapel and Waylon's heart started hammering once again. There'd been no indication that The Groom had made another appearance and yet here he was leading him back. Was he going to finish him off? Rather than going up the final flight of stairs, they were following the signs that directed to the Offices. Waylon blinked, gaze dragged from the floor and finally taking in exactly where he was being lead. He recognised the room, other than a few plant pots on their side and.. was that puke?.. It looked mostly untouched. This was where he'd been before he made the decision to get in contact with Miles. At the back of the room he spotted his personal office. The door had been forced open, a large hole through the frosted glass and he couldn't help but look at Eddie. The man looked sheepish and ran his free hand over his hair, brows dipped.  
“...You.. look like you had fun.”  
“That's not important right now.” He shook his head and stepped around the vomit filled bin into Waylon's office.

Things slowly began to fall into place. The cuts on Eddie's knuckles that weren't just from getting into a fight with Walker, it had been glass. Some of the pictures had been shifted since he last looked at them. The Groom had found his office and then the photographs of his family, he had the evidence that Waylon did in fact have a family. If it were anyone else, he had to wonder if he'd have had such a moment of crushing morality. The one last bit of conscience that he had left buckled under the weight of what he'd done. If he still weren't quite so annoyed, then maybe he'd be touched at the notion. “Lisa's been trying to get in touch with you.. I... assume that's the mother of your children. Your wife.” Eddie gestured to the computer awkwardly and glanced out the window. He looked like a school boy that'd had his knuckles rapped.  
Slowly Waylon moved to his computer and sat in the chair. The leather creaked and he gave a small exhale as he sunk into it's welcoming softness. Something was starting to tell him this really was the home stretch. He opened the browser and lo and behold there were messages after messages from Lisa. Some were simple, like 'I miss you' others talked about the legal procedures she was trying to pursue. Relief washed over him as he pulled the keyboard closer to him and began working on a reply.

He started the same email it felt like over and over again, getting so far and then deleting the whole thing. He wanted to tell her everything, wanted them to know he was alright. He wanted to know how his boys were, he'd missed Benji's first day of school and it made his gut knot. In the end he settled with something simple and to the point.  
_Lisa, I'm alive. I'm alright. I'm coming home, I promise. Everything's gone to hell here, waiting for an opportunity to get out. The thought of you and our sons is the only thing that's kept me going.  
I promise I'm coming home, baby._

 

He exhaled shakily as he sent the message, biting at his index finger. He had to hope the email would get out, would Murkoff still be monitoring the emails? Probably not after the meltdown. Either way, what mattered was that Lisa knew he was alright. Waylon spun in his chair and glanced at Eddie. He could barely look at Waylon, avoiding he gaze as much as he possibly could. It was like dealing with Max when he'd done something wrong. He knew he'd messed up and was trying to avoid any telling off... But he knew it wasn't that simple with Eddie. If what he'd told him about this father and uncle was anything to go on, his body had gone into fight or flight mode, probably making things worse in his head than they were.  
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Waylon cocked his head, trying to catch Eddie's eyes.  
“I just want to get out.” He muttered, watching the sun rising above the mountain line.  
“You attacked me.”  
“The Groom attacked you.”  
“You're not two different people. He is a part of you. If you keep ignoring him it's going to get worse. You need to address this-”  
“No, _please_ Waylon, _please_ tell me how you know how to deal with my sickness better than I do.” Eddie's tone was strained, level, but strained. The way his weary look had become that of annoyance indicated Waylon was perhaps pushing more than he should have. “Tell me how to live with this sickness I've been dealing with since the first time my Father and Uncle decided to hold me down and fuck me till I bled and cried for mercy. I implore you if you have any _better_ suggestions.”  
The tension was palpable and Waylon shifted. If Eddie was really as angry as he was making himself out to be, then he'd have gone for him by now. He'd he held against that window by his neck and Eddie would be debating throwing him out of it. Waylon sighed, letting his head lean against the chair, looking up to the ceiling.  
“Eddie, that's _not_ what I'm saying. I'm saying there needs to be a better way than avoiding it. No, I'm not saying I know you better than you do.” He rubbed his eyes, feeling that tiredness creeping back up on him. “Just.. it sounds a lot like repression. Yes, you attacked me, but you _came_ back. Just.. can we not do more of the sticking together thing? I find that works a lot better than being at each other's throats.”  
“Once we're out we can go our separate ways. You won't have to see me again.”  
“We're in this together now, Murkoff is going to be after both of us.”  
“Yes, but what you're missing is that, yes, this is going to be difficult. I don't just flip a switch in my head for shits and giggles. I don't control what my head does. I'm sorry it must such a massive inconvenience to you, Waylon, after all you are a mentally sound man, you know all about how to be a normal person. If you can't accept that this is part of who I am, then we're better off going our separate ways.”  
“Okay, okay.” Waylon put his hands up, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't..” He paused and sighed once again, he had to think a lot more about his words lately. Eddie suffers from paranoia amongst other things. _Assure him. Affirm his emotions. Do what your parents did when you were suffering during university. Do what Lisa did when you had that panic attack_. “I shouldn't be telling you how to manage it. I only want to help, and I'm out of line. What do you need? What can I do to help or make things better?”  
Eddie's jaw unclenched and he glanced over his shoulder at Waylon. His shoulders were still tensed, but he didn't look quite so on edge. If anything he looked a little wary.  
“Let me bring things up. I'll talk about them when I'm ready.”  
“What about if I need to talk about something?”  
“Then ask. Don't start rattling on about it, chances are I've got something to say about it too. There's going to be times when I _can't_ talk about things. There won't be any rhyme or reason, but something will just _stop me_ from being able to. Sometimes it can be over something so stupid as the fact I'm.. worried about what will happen if I do talk about it.”  
“Then I promise I'll listen. I'll do my best. In exchange, you have to promise to try. Even if it's terrifying you. We're in this together.”  
“And what about when we reach your home? What then?”  
“That's for me to worry about.”  
“It's still something that's bothering me.”  
“It's going to be awkward, I'm not denying that.. but I'm not going to turf you out on your heels.”  
“...Don't get me wrong, I'm not revelling in being dependent on you. I just want you to know what you're getting yourself into.”  
“I'm being dependent on you.” Waylon shrugged. “We're working on the buddy system. I'm not your adversary, or someone you need to one up, we're helping each other and keeping an eye out. If you need to so something, fine, tell me, I'll go with you. Then you ask what I want to do next and we go do that. We've already got the holding hands part down. And if one of us isn't being a good buddy then we'll talk about it.”  
Eddie closed his eyes and let out a small snort. “Don't talk to me like I'm one of your kids.”  
“You'd be surprised how many adults need it spelling out to them, my kids get it better than some of my friends.” Waylon got to his feet, even if he didn't want to leave the comfort of his chair. “This is new territory for both of us, so let's just take baby steps.”  
“..I think I want to take some of the meds. I can't afford another slip up like that.”  
“Let's just relax here for a while, have something to eat and get our energy back?”  
Eddie nodded, finally leaving the comfort of the corner of the office. He pushed Waylon back into the office chair and he perched on the edge of the desk unzipping the food backpack. For a little while, he felt like perhaps their efforts to escape weren't doomed to fail.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I look around, but I can't find you (raise it up)  
> If only I could see your face (raise it up)  
> Instead of rushing towards the skyline (raise it up)  
> I wish that I could just be brave
> 
> I must become a lion hearted girl  
> Ready for a fight  
> Before I make the final sacrifice"  
> Florence + the Machine - Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	9. Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon talks about his family and how Murkoff scouted him out. More Murkoff soldiers infiltrate the building and force Waylon and Eddie deeper into the Administration block, venturing further into unknown territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Every time I see your face  
> I'm lost for words I don't know what to say  
> You're smiling at me like a wolf  
> I close my eyes as my skin crawls away
> 
> You can keep on making lists  
> I'll be happy making my mistakes  
> You'll be ticking off your boxes  
> I'll be busy planning my escape"

 “Max had to have been about.. yeah I think he was six? Dead of night and he comes into our room and wakes Lisa up. I just hear this tiny peep out of him and the next thing I hear is him throwing up his dinner all over the bed. Lisa's covered and quickly rushes him to the bathroom and I'm left with this.. _pile_. It was like a tiny mountain of vomit all over the sheets. So I have to change everything, the duvet, the duvet cover, the sheets, the pillows. All because he'd tried to eat more than his stomach was gonna stand for.”  
“Must have been a good roast.”  
“It was, but that's not the point. Because whilst I'm changing the sheets, my own stomach is catching up to what's going on and starts putting up a protest.” Waylon took a swig of the water bottle, his hand up to stop Eddie. “So, whilst Lisa is trying to wash herself and Max off, I am pretty sure that I'm about to add to puke mountain. To this day I have never told her that Max didn't make all that mess himself, but I'm pretty sure the fact I was the colour of the non-puke covered sheets when she came back in and helped me change the bedding, I don't think she wanted to bring it up.”  
“Did she ever ask you to clean them up after that?” Eddie snorted. “Sounds more like you'd just add to the mess.”  
“Oh, my weak stomach never stopped her. You kind of just learn to accept that it's inevitably going to be gross. If we hadn't had the kids before I'd come here, you probably would have caught me by simply following the trail of puke... You sure you still want them?”  
Eddie laughed and shook his head. “Never did. I've always been torn between thinking I'd mess them up and I should have been able to do a better job.. then.. then things got bad.”

Somewhere in the building there was a loud bang. From the office there was a view of the front gates, the doors were surrounded by even more military trucks and the sound of gunfire rang in their ears. Light was blinking in the corridors below lighting them up and showing men in tactical gear. Waylon's heart jumped, watching glimpses of the slaughter. It almost didn't look real, watching the Variants caught in the crossfire twist and fall to the ground.  
“..They tried this before, when Chris was on ground level, now he's underground they're probably verifying everyone else is dead.” Eddie grimaced, pulling the privacy blinds down. “I've still got the keys, but they may have the means to break through. Are you ready to go?”  
Waylon gave a groan as he hauled himself out of his chair. “Give me a moment.” Out of his drawer he fished a memory stick and plugged it into his computer, making backups of all of his data. “They'll be destroying everything I'd assume.. better to get more evidence. Just in case Miles doesn't get out.”  
Eddie gave a small nod and stood by the door of the office, even if it was light outside if they turned all the lights out it'd make things a bit easier for them to navigate around the new enemies. He stepped into the main area with the cubicles and went around turning off all the lights and locked the door. He pushed desk in the way, tipping it in a way to prop just underneath the door handle. As he'd finished securing the area he turned to look at Waylon who proudly brandished the small memory stick. He had another bag over his shoulder, a laptop bag. Was that his?  
“Let's go.” He beamed. Eddie hadn't seen him smile often, there wasn't a reason. But he looked alive for the first time. All the adrenaline and knowing he was going to go home had awoken a spark within him. He couldn't help but think just how beautiful he looked. He shook the thought away and opened the gate that divided the office from the next section.  
“I should let it be known, I have no idea where this leads.”  
“We'll come back if we need to. I'm getting used to this place being a maze.”  
The deeper they went, the better the decorations became. The paintings looked more expensive, sculptures littered the hallway and the placards on the offices seemed to be followed by more and more impressive titles. Why were the top brass offices so close and he'd never realised? Fear to explore, Waylon concluded. One office caught his eye, the door was wide open and the plaque read: _JEREMY BLAIRE_. The man who would have skinned, salted and raped him for a promotion and a few martinis. His fist ached at the memory of punching the man in the jaw, it wasn't enough. Even if he got all this out, he needed to drag Blaire.  
“Waylon, we don't have time for this.”  
“I just need a few minutes.”

Beforehand, it had been the fear of getting caught that had made Waylon so sloppy in sending out the email. Now that everything had gone to hell, he didn't care. Mercilessly he broke through the security systems, the coding was probably some of the best money could buy and perhaps he was being sloppy about it, but this was his equivalent to Eddie carving up the Wardens. In went the memory stick and he made copies of all of his emails, documents, even video recordings of some patient sessions, there was one following Trager's 'experimental surgeries'. _Everything. Everything needed to be exposed. This sickness, this foul putrid company had to burn. He'd been the one to blow the whistle and now he'd be the one to burn them to the ground._  
“How did you get this good..?” Eddie crouched behind him, watching Waylon's revenge in action.  
“When I was at University I was into hacktivism. Berkeley had a history of being into the Civil Rights movement in the 50's and 60's. Berkeley U's one of the places of the biggest Student Protests in US history, they protested the freedom of speech, civil rights and against the Vietnam War. They were a wild bunch there. I think a lot of us took inspiration from it. I knew I was good with a computer and Lisa wasn't the kind of woman who'd be silenced. We'd taken strength from the Los Angeles riots a couple of years before we got to Berkeley, a guy got pulled over for speeding and the cops beat the hell out of him because he was Hispanic and the courts were way to lax on the verdict. Man, the black community lashed back after that. Lisa was the one who really got me into it. Her sister had been at the demonstration that night.” He paused and pulled the memory stick free. “It was an atmosphere I knew would push me. I'd spend too long avoiding these things because I didn't feel like I could speak out. If you're not white in America and you're being treated like crap because of the system you'd better nut up and shut up. Hell, if you're not a rich white guy it's nut up and shut up.”  
“I.. hadn't realised.”  
“I'm third generation Vietnamese on my mom's side.” Waylon shrugged. “I'm proud of it, don't get me wrong. I just got sick of the 'where are you from' comments after a while. My dad's side was Eurasian. I love them dearly.. they were just a bit stifling sometimes. I don't handle stress very well if you hadn't noticed and sometimes my course had me at breaking point working alongside the activism I was doing. We're an outspoken people, but it's easy to get burned out. Once I finished we moved to Colorado, I needed the distance.” He got out of the chair and put the memory stick in the laptop bag slung over his other shoulder. He took a deep breath and glanced into the corridor. “I don't quite have the same strength some people do to cut their parents out of their lives. I don't want to, sometimes they don't quite get it, you know?”  
Not especially, granted Eddie recalled his uncle coming out with some fairly dire things about the people who weren't white in their town. “..I can imagine.” He followed suit until they reached a flight of stairs. It was small and spiralling leading to lower floors, stained glass framed the outside wall, if they weren't in such a hurry to escape then Waylon might have called it beautiful, though he was more concerned with how cold the floor was on his feet. “So if you had a hacktivist past, why did Murkoff take you in, surely they would have known that would have caused problems.”  
“A good hacktivist can bury his past.” Waylon replied flatly. “That, and they're cocky. They're a large company with their fingers in as many pies as possible. No I may not be able to swing a punch very well in a proper fight, but even so, being able to wreck someone on Reddit and get into the deep web, doesn't mean I'd be able to single handedly take down a company like this and they probably knew it. It's probably why Blaire found me so fast, he probably knew it was coming. They just needed my skills with coding to keep the computers working, nothing more.”

A great deal of what Waylon was going on about seemed to go over Eddie's head. He'd never heard of Reddit or even the Deep Web, it was clearly connected to the internet but, it didn't strike him as a part of Waylon he made public.  
“When was the last time you did anything like this?”  
“I'd retired for a while, I kept up with Anon on the internet, but I didn't really do anything. I drifted. Probably why this job seemed to be too good of an opportunity to pass up. And this is what I got for it..” Waylon squinted. The light was barely visible in the area, but he could hear the sound of a fan overhead. There was the smell of stale cigarettes and the general men's locker room funk. Why this was at the bottom of the stairs from the offices was beyond him.  
“...This is completely out of my jurisdiction.” Eddie muttered, trying to make out the room's layout.  
“Well at least that's both of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Pulling wings off butterflies  
> Just to hide the pain you feel inside  
> Keep telling yourself you're in charge  
> Telling yourself it'll be alright
> 
> And you'll stay happy in the dark  
> I'll be drifting out towards the light  
> When you start to speak your mind  
> I'll just turn around and roll my eyes
> 
> I won't stay but I can't leave  
> Some twisted sense of loyalty  
> You make me love the things I hate  
> Keep pushing me, pushing me, keep pushing me away  
> Please keep pushing me, pushing me, keep pushing me away"  
> Gabrielle Aplin - Keep Pushing Me  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	10. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two discover the Wardens' locker room, Eddie's medication kicks in with more adverse effects than either are prepared for. The two sides of Eddie begin their melding, leaving Waylon playing psychological minesweeper all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ""Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But you'll never know what a fool I've been  
> Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But that's no excuse for the state I'm in"

The room was dank, in a word. The fact it was anywhere near the top brass offices said it was something of an escape route for them rather than anything functional. Internally Waylon thought perhaps it was something of commentary on how the builders thought about the people paying them. He kept a smirk off his features as he fished for the night vision camera. There were lockers lining the back wall, a half assed air conditioning fan circled above lazily, it didn't do much to keep the air flow moving as proven by the musty smell. There was probably mould in the walls under layers of plaster and paint knowing how old the place was. Normally Waylon would have left the lockers alone, but curiosity was compelling him, if this was an actual locker room, then reason stood that there would be things in here, things maybe they could use. He glanced back to Eddie, the man looked as cautious as ever. Waylon stepped forward and opened the lockers one after another. Some had nothing, some had nothing of value to them, others had clothes, but one caught his eye. He blinked a few times and started looking around for the light switch. He needed to see better than what his night vision could grant him.  
“What are you doing?” Eddie felt his way to a desk, trying to see what he could of Waylon shuffling around. At least the dress was so pale it gave him something to focus on.  
“I need to find a light switch.”  
“Is that the best idea? They're going to like the well lit areas.” His skin felt like it was crawling. He couldn't stand be stood still for so long, it wasn't completely out of paranoia, but he was starting to wonder if perhaps he wasn't blaming it on just that. He was probably just tired, he didn't remember the last time he'd slept, that could have meant he either didn't or The Groom had slept for him plenty. His memory flickered and saw Waylon sleeping in the cafeteria. So maybe a couple of hours ago..  
The light flicked on and Eddie rubbed his eyes, whilst they'd been in light not long ago it felt like he'd been punched in the eyes.  
“Assholes!” Waylon shouted, leaning into the false locker. In it was a cupboard filled with clothes and personal belongings. Waylon recognised a few items of clothing, some he had to wonder if there were other people like him who tried to get word out and were caught. “My clothes are in here.” He grabbed the shirt, and stared at it in utter disbelief. Underneath were his jeans, wallet, car keys and shoes. Why wouldn't they have gotten rid of it? They really were that cocky after all.  
“But I thought you looked good in the dress.” Eddie winced, at least he could play that off as joking, but what concerned him was how he genuinely thought that it suited him. Waylon shot him a sarcastic look over his shoulder and pulled his jeans on underneath the dress.  
He felt like the hairs on his neck were standing on end as he pulled his jeans up each leg. One thing no one ever warned you about shaving your legs was the odd smoothness you felt as you pulled on tight fitting jeans afterwards. It felt horrifyingly weird. He shuddered and then began his fight with the zipper at the back of the dress. Eddie watched him for a while, wondering why exactly he felt so upset about the fact Waylon was taking it off. It wasn't a real wedding dress it was just some awful manifestation of his mental illness. He simultaneously wanted him to keep it on and at the same time throw it into the fire in the chapel. He shook his head and practically tore the thing from Waylon's form, throwing it aside. If he clung to this place, he'd burn along with it. His clothes nauseated him, patched together from the remnants of the Wardens he'd killed clothes. He hated it. He hastily unbuttoned it, throwing it aside and staring at the open lockers ahead of him. He didn't notice Waylon had had his shirt pulled on, settling into the thick forest green sweater and was watching him. The ridiculous bow tie and the heinous stitched together mess of a dress shirt were the next things to go. The air was harsh and cold, enough to make him hiss through his teeth. Staring him straight in the face was a fairly fresh white shirt and black suit jacket. It was enough.

Waylon tried to tear his eyes off him, he really did. This was the second time he'd seen him fairly naked, something he thought that Eddie would have more of a problem with all things considered. At least he didn't catch him looking. This time he could look at him in better lighting. The marks from being forced into the pod had faded, the wounds on his face were healing, at least he was leaving them alone. His tongue flicked over his lips and he realised what he was doing and shook his head. The man was _sick_. This was something close to taking advantage of him. There was an imbalance and it was a grey area that he wasn't entirely comfortable treading through.. yet here he was. It was ridiculous, he'd known the man for maybe a day. It was just because they were cooped up together, nothing more.  
  
“You sure you're not the one in need of a break?” Eddie tugged at the jacket, adjusting the collar. Waylon shook his head and looked at him. If it wasn't for the scarring he might have passed off as a businessman himself.. well if he grew his hair. “I don't know about you, but I really need to get going.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I've got a bad feeling.”  
“Why?”  
“You know that thing we talked about upstairs? I just don't feel good.” Eddie's eyes narrowed.  
“I thought the medication was supposed to help.”  
Eddie groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sometimes you have to mix the meds. One causes a side effect the other cancels out. We just need to work it out.”  
“Eddie we shouldn't be playing with this stuff. Did you have a prescription from before?”  
“Ah.. About that.” He shuddered, leaning on the locker as he picked up the food backpack. “I know you've got a copy of people's files. I want you to get rid of mine.” Waylon opened his mouth to protest and Eddie shook his head. “It's going to get in the way. Wherever we go, if I go to a doctor they could send someone after us. I need to disappear and go off the grid, you do as well, it works for both of us.”  
“I need insurance with you, Mr. Gluskin.” Waylon lifted his finger, granted he wasn't wearing his resting bitch face. “I know your situation is complicated, but I need to know you're not going to just drop and run after I've got you out.”  
“You've got me out? I thought this was a joint effort. You'd be fucked if I wasn't helping you out.”  
“Okay, okay, how about we make another deal?”  
“I thought we were operating on the buddy system, _darling_?” Eddie narrowed his eyes. His brain felt like it was on fire, and Waylon was babbling about deals? They had a flight to catch for their honeymoon didn't they-- He shook his head. No. No they didn't.  
“Stay with me, Eddie.” Waylon held his hands up and stepped closer. “We're still nervous. Okay? We both have our reservations, this will just be something we say once and probably never have to think about ever again. I'll keep these files withheld, and once we are long gone from this matter, when Murkoff isn't on our tail, then I'll get rid of the files. I'll even go through as many systems as I can and I will delete any trace of you, okay? I just need you to get through this last hurdle and we're out of here.”  
“I'm tired of your games, darling.”  
“I know, I know and I'm sorry. But I can't delete those files, not yet.”  
“Why not?”  
“What if we run out of your medication? It's going to inevitably happen. We need something to reference back to when we need to get more. I promise I wouldn't give it over to anyone. It's just for us. Something we can use. That's all it is.”  
“Don't try to carrot and stick me again, you'll find I'm not a patient man.”  
“Eddie, what's brought this on?” He paused and grabbed the first aid bag. “Shit, which pills did you take? Sit down, have a drink”  
Gently he guided Eddie to a chair and set his laptop bag on the table and plugged in the memory stick. If he was going to use the file to best judge how to medicate Eddie, then he'd actually have to study it and read what it said. There had to have been some sort of correspondence between doctors that actually wanted to help him. The file itself when he finally found it was old. Said the best reaction they'd gotten from from a mix of about three different drugs. Most typically they were used for Bipolar, schizophrenia and depression. Better than lithium he supposed.  
“Why are you trying so hard for me, is it really because you feel guilty for fixing the machine?” Eddie was half slouched in the chair, his eyes lidded. If there was a tranquilliser element in there it had probably finally kicked in. “Guilt can push a man to do a lot of things, but you've had every chance to leave me. I told you, this isn't going to be easy for you. You could just leave me here now, go take Upshur's car and be with your family.. why?”  
Waylon's eyebrows dipped as he compared labels to the file he was faced with. Eddie was experiencing a roller coaster of emotions right now and he knew medications could have some adverse effects, but he had to wonder if this was a combination of the Morphogenic Engine's effects. They didn't want their patients better, they wanted them worse and it was all about subliminal suggestions. Fight getting better, indulge and get worse. He felt out of his depth.  
“Because I've really needed a friend and so far, you and Miles have been the best ones I've had. Even if you have tried to carve me up, you've come back. You've kept me safe. Yeah, I may be making a mistake, but that's my decision to make.” He fished the pills from the bag and set them down next to Eddie. “Which one of these did you take?” He pointed to one and Waylon sucked on his teeth, unscrewing the lid on the other two. “Here, two of these ones, and half of this one. This should help.”  
Eddie took the pills with a surly look, he didn't even take a drink of water with them, staring dead ahead of him. “Turn off the lights, darling.” He asked slowly.  
“Okay, I'm done here, let me get this stuff away and I'll do it. Then we can leave, okay? We'll be fine.”  
“Please stop saying it's fine.” He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.  
“It will be.”  
“You don't _know that_.”  
“No, I don't. But it won't be fine if we don't do something to help it be that way.”  
“God I hope you're sure of what you're getting yourself into.”  
“Too late to turn back now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My heart swells like a water at weight  
> Can't stop myself before it's too late  
> Hold on to your heart  
> 'Cause I'm coming to take you  
> Hold on to your heart  
> 'Cause I'm coming to break you
> 
> Hold on hold on hold on hold on hold on  
> Hold on hold on hold on hold on hold on"  
> Florence + the Machine - Hardest of Hearts  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	11. Prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great escape from Mount Massive. Relief and freedom. A friend reappears and Waylon realises that things may go deeper than he was previously lead to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes I wake up thinking about you  
> Sometimes I just don’t wake up at all  
> I wish you were the one  
> That I can’t live without  
> But I’m cold, I’m cold  
> I know that you won’t break me to pieces  
> But sometimes that is just what I need  
> ‘Cause I won’t know I’m wrong  
> ’Til I’m shown what I’ve done, but that’s me 
> 
> The only thing I can truly see’s the ache in my soul  
> I’ve got nothing to say  
> It’s already too late  
> I’ve got this feeling  
> I really should be leaving now

They moved through the corridors slowly, taking in each landmark as they went, just in case they needed to return back the way they went. Eddie was heavy but he was adamant he was going to take as much of his own weight as possible. Even if Waylon was surprisingly strong despite his appearance, it seemed to be a matter of pride more than anything. He was stubborn, but Waylon kept reminding himself it was a learned behaviour. _Everything that makes you as a person is learned. When you are born you are nothing more than a blank slate to the world_. Unwilling to accept help would have meant punishment for weakness, didn't surprise him in the slightest from what he knew. He knew lethargy was a side effect, but part of him wondered if he'd started him on too much too soon. Perhaps they were right to leave him off the medication whilst they were in the asylum, it was all well and good for him to be mentally alert, but he was their tank if anything happened. Since having taken the meds he'd seemingly delved inside himself, very rarely speaking. He replied if Waylon spoke to him, but even so, his eyes were darting all around him, so he was alert in his own way. Every once in a while, he might have muttered something incoherent under his breath, but when asked he looked at him blankly. He also put it down to tiredness, once they'd had a proper rest then maybe he'd be more coherent, Waylon could only hope.

The lights in the corridor as they progressed more often than not were switched on. The gunfire they'd previously heard was gone, leaving the area eerily quiet once again. Once, he would have only worried further, wondering what was hiding in wait for him. Now? Either he was used to it or he was too focused to think, but he found a certain amount of comfort in the silence. It was easier for him to hear what was going on in his surroundings. Somewhere there was a dripping pipe, it was probably the sprinklers finally kicking in on the upper floors near the chapel. A place like this wouldn't go up in flames quite so easily, not if Murkoff had their way. Soon he began to recognise the décor, the red carpets and ornate wooden panelling that was punctuated by doors. Most were unmarked, some were bathrooms and others had been blocked up completely.

“Are we leaving?” Eddie asked quietly, perking up slightly as he took in the area.  
“Nearly at the doors, then we get in the jeep and we drive far away from here.”  
“So which is it, darling, is this our honeymoon, or is this a holiday to get away from it all?” Waylon glanced at Eddie, despite being so insistent on an answer, he didn't seem all that content to look at him. Even if The Groom was being willingly lead along, he didn't seem happy about it at all.  
“You can call it whatever you want.” Waylon replied, albeit softly. He grunted and pulled Eddie up onto his shoulder more. “For me, this is my escape. I'd like to think this is your escape too, the start of something better.”  
“But we already have everything we needed here.” There was definite melancholy in his tone, looking mournfully at everything as they passed it by.  
“No, Eddie, we really didn't.” It was a conversation that was due to come up at some point. The Groom would no doubt throw his toys out of the pram, but the longer they stayed the worse he knew he would get. Get some distance between them and this hell hole.  
“You're not wearing the dress I made you any longer. I suppose you hated it didn't you?”  
“I need to show you something. I don't know how aware you are of it, but we've been having more conversations than just these.” Glancing to the side he lead them into an office that's door was wide open. He set The Groom down to lean against the desk and fished out his camera. His brow dipped as he rewound the footage he'd recorded. His memory conjured up the file, how Eddie had grown violent an angry at the images of what he'd done to his victims, but would he react any differently to his own image? He tentatively took at seat next to The Groom, eyes darting between him and the camera as he played back the recording.  
_“Ah.. If when we reach the female ward and your darling makes another appearance, remind him about the chapel.”_  
“Why are you telling me this?”  
“Whenever I've tried to escape, I get just past the cafeteria, I found a key for the stair well and passages that connect the buildings. As soon as I step over the threshold, something takes me back and I'm at square one.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I black out. The part of me that made that Saatchi bait, it takes hold. I think it's part of the hypnotic suggestions the doctors made.”  
The Groom didn't quite seem to clock what it was that he was seeing. He seemed to recognise that it was him, he definitely recognised Waylon, but something wasn't getting through. He glanced at Waylon blankly.  
“What about it, darling?”  
“Do you remember having that conversation?”  
“Clear as day. Are you sure you're quite alright?”  
“..I'm just trying to make sense of you.” Waylon closed the camera display and put it back into his bag. “Do you remember everything we've said to one another?”  
“Were you not listening before? I remember things, sometimes it's as though I'm looking at myself. I want to say things and the words I want to say don't come out. I hear that part of me constantly.”  
“Like he's a voice in your head?”  
“Indeed, darling. Though right now he's rather adamant we make a move. He's as eager to leave as well.”  
“So why don't you?”  
“I was born here, my darling. Perhaps some part of me existed before I was brought to this awful place and the Engine shattered me. You've said it yourself, they wanted me more broken than when I arrived. I'm aware that something isn't right. I've always known, but whenever I get close it slips out of my grasp. When you're as deep in the rabbit hole as they wanted us, there only feels that the option to go deeper is available to you. As hideous as he is, Walker was right. This place is also infected. It's sick, so very very sick and ill. Even the doctors began to feel it, the worse you are, the more susceptible you are to the engine and the nano-machines that fill the area. I don't believe The Walrider is a spiritual projection in the slightest, darling, what it is, is a projection of someone's mind through the power of science. Perhaps it could be amplified by the history of this place. Walls hold memories arguably better than people do.”  
“...So what.. what do you remember of your past? Before here?”  
“What I remember, I was told wasn't the truth, but it's true to me. Who are they to drag me away from my comforts to face such a rotten world?” He paused as Waylon's brows dipped regarding him with sympathy. “Memories are fickle, darling. Perhaps if you'd have been here as long as I had you might have accepted me as your husband. We could have been beautiful together you know, darling.” He reached for Waylon's hand. The man almost moved away but he let him take it. The Groom stared at it for a moment, perhaps thinking about the sort of ring he would have given his 'Bride'. It was too cruel. All of this was too cruel.  
“I'm sorry.” He meant it.  
“I know you are.” There was a small tug at the corner of his lips and patted Waylon's thigh. His upper teeth raking over his bottom lip, regarding the floor. He sighed and returned his gaze to Waylon, though his features didn't soften. It was that smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “If it's meant to be it will be... Shall we make your great escape?”

 

The stairs were suffering, more than Waylon realised as they made their way down. Where Walker had hammered his way down, the wood had splintered somewhat under the weight of his rage, the soldiers couldn't have helped much. But the fact there weren't many bodies was something of a comfort. It was a selfish comfort to say the least, he knew full well that there would have been more bodies inside no doubt. But the Variants had taken down Soldiers before, they were probably capable of taking down these ones if they put their heads together. For a moment Waylon allowed himself to gaze at the bottom floor. Blaire was still there, laid by the door and his eyes narrowed. Around his stomach there was blood, but every once in a while he'd shift, ever so slightly. The Groom followed his line of sight and squinted before letting out a small disapproving hum. Clearly both had hoped that Blaire would be gone or reduced to a small mark on the floor by the time they returned, couldn't have it all.  
  
The approach to the businessman was the worst and Waylon tightened his jaw. He just wanted to walk past and leave the asshole alone to bleed out. The Groom stayed close by him, watching Blaire with trained eyes and that same scrutiny he'd given Waylon when he was sat at the computer in the dispensary. He'd come to realise that that look was of a man ready to launch himself into battle. He delighted in it, at least he was on his side, he kept telling himself.  
“Here comes the bride.” Blaire coughed. “You're a lucky son of a bitch aren't you, Park? I'm stuck like a pig, since you're making deals, how about we make one?”  
“You're done Blaire.” Waylon replied flatly. His grip on the strap of his laptop bag grew tighter, trying not to look down at the man.  
“So you'll be the compulsive Liar's prison bitch, but you're too good for us now? You sold your soul to Murkoff the minute you signed that contract.”  
Waylon didn't say anything in response, he was fixated on the door. He stepped around the front desk, grabbing a file and shoved it into the laptop bag. Nothing Blaire could say would deter him, as much as he wanted to punch him all over again. As he passed by Blaire it was like everything had slowed down all over again. Blaire had leapt up with a shard of pointed glass in his hand, howling how it could never get out. Thankfully his laptop had gotten in the way. The reinforced casing taking the impact out. Upon realising that he hadn't managed to stab Waylon, instead only broken the glass he was holding he swung a punch with his left arm. Waylon was knocked down and held his hands in front of his face. The next impact didn't happen, he opened his eyes and saw Blaire in The Groom's grip. He'd grabbed his arm and gave it a violent twist. The snap was horrific. Blaire screamed, begging him to stop, but The Groom's eyes were dark, but his expression was fixated into that horrifying snarl as he twisted his arm further, forcing the other to his knees.  
“You will _not_ lay another hand on him.” He then gave a jolt as he hoisted Blaire up by his broken arm and Waylon was fairly sure he saw the ligament tear. The Groom threw him down, making sure that he hit every solid surface as his body rag-dolled past. The howling screams for mercy were enough to make Waylon's stomach turn. The way The Groom violently defended him, terrified he may have been of him at one point, but at least he had someone looking out for him. Another crash as The Groom dragged Blaire's body along the front desk, sending computers and papers flying, pinned by his neck. _I should stop this. This is too much.._ The Groom's shoulders rose and fell his grip on Blaire's throat tightening, the businessman gagged under his grip, barely enough energy left in him to scratch and scramble at the death grip he was held in.  
  
“Eddie, we've got to go.” Waylon kept his distance, his palms raised in front of him. “You've done enough.”  
The Groom shot a glare over his shoulder, studying Waylon and then Blaire once more. The man in his grip was still writhing, a fighter until the end. If he let him go there was no telling what would happen. _Waylon would never forgive us. I know you can hear me. Knock him out and let's go_.  
“How is he still alive? Stabbed, shot, beaten by Walker and myself... Anyone else should be dead by now.” Eddie spoke to himself, still staring at the man in his grip. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone standing by him, and yet he didn't feel the need to jerk away. They were familiar. _All the more reason to drop him and go. We're in over our head._  
“Eddie who are you talking to-”  
The Groom hushed Waylon and slammed Blaire's head against the desk, he watched as his eyes rolled back and fell unconscious. _What else was going on here..?_ He shook his head and dropped the businessman, some things Waylon didn't need to know, although he could probably guess. There was more to Murkoff's machinations, that much was always apparent, just the extent was starting to make his head spin. So he did what he'd always known how to do, play it off like nothing happened. The Groom straightened up the front of his jacket and his shirt collar and made his way over to Waylon.  
“You're right, darling, we should be leaving.” He smiled and offered the other his crooked elbow to take. He'd lead him out. This was a new beginning and they were taking it together; it was romantic in it's own way. Waylon would come around. He had to.

Searing pain shot through him, causing him to cry out, he staggered and shoved Waylon out the doors giving himself a split second to look behind him. How was Blaire still upright? His eyes widened as Blaire ran at him once more with a piece of glass, he only had a moment to counter.. but that moment didn't arrive. The Groom watched as he was whisked into the air, the howling an hollering growing louder and then silence. It felt like it was raining, his face wet with a light shower of moisture. It was coppery and sharp. He knew the smell anywhere, the adrenaline enough to forget about the warmth spreading in his shoulder. There was something oppressive in the air and all The Groom could think of was the basement level of the facility. The smell, though no where near, was clinical, chemical and too clean. The rubber tubing, the sound of leather boots scuffling. _No. No get yours hands off me you jack-booted fucks. Rape! Rape! Rape! Help me they're going to rape me!_  
Waylon watched as Eddie stayed stock still, his eyes tracking something that was beyond his vision. He rushed forward and was met with a shower of body parts, a torn suit sleeve sent off the arm that landed at Eddie's feet. Looking up, he saw it. A masculine form with no real definition vaguely floated above them, watching them with no real malice. The Walrider had saved them? What had happened in the sub levels?  
“Billy Hope?” Waylon uttered under his breath.  
“Billy didn't make it.” Came the reply. In the shadows of the entrance hall footsteps echoed. The figure was covered in blood and Waylon almost didn't recognise him, but he'd recognise the harsh tone of voice anywhere. His jacket was pocketed with holes and yet he didn't appear injured in the slightest, no trace of blood. “Are you alright?”  
Waylon glanced down at Eddie whose hands had found themselves in his hair, covering the sight ahead of him. They'd have to get him patched up again. “I'm.. I'm fine.. he got Eddie.”  
“I got him too late. They start to move faster and faster...” Miles muttered. “You two need to go.”  
“What about you?”  
“Not yet.” He shook his head.  
“How did..”  
“It's not important, Waylon. You two need to go. Now the sun's up it's your best time to leave.”  
“Miles-”  
“Waylon, I have to clean some things up. Walker was right. There's things here that can't get out into the world.” He fumbled in his pockets and produced his own video camera and pushed it into Waylon's hands. “The world should know. But they shouldn't have to experience them.”  
He wanted to protest, to argue, demand to know more. Everyone was locking him out, was it to protect him or themselves? Was he really so delicate?  
“What _is_ it?”  
“When the time is right, I'll find you. I promise.” Miles' eyes narrowed, squinting at the dawning light behind them. Slowly but surely the Walrider projection above them began to fade and Miles' teeth gritted. “I'll keep in touch. Eddie needs to be away from here, after everything they've done to him, being near the Walrider's not gonna do him any good. Stop worrying about me and worry for him and yourself. When you're back in civilisation, only travel during the day. Lock the doors and windows at night and if you hear anything outside keep still.”  
“Miles-”  
“Get in touch with a guy called Peter. He works for Viral Leaks, they'll get this out.”  
“How?”  
“I've got his card in the car, get in there, drive and don't look back.”  
Waylon's lips pursed, searching Miles' face for any sign of give. Nothing. He heaved a sigh and took a hold of Eddie. Miles was a brick wall right now, nothing he was saying made any sense, but the fact he was deadly serious made his skin crawl; just when he thought he'd gotten to the bottom of Murkoff.. Eddie's grip on him was tight, clutching him like he was his anchor point. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was repeating something like a mantra. He looked back to Miles who gave him a firm nod and closed the asylum doors behind them. There was a loud click, the doors were now sealed shut.  
_Come on, get to the car. We can do this._

They hobbled down the pathway, Waylon took note of the military vehicles parked around the courtyard. So many had stormed in and yet none of them were to be seen anywhere. Had Miles done all that? Had he wiped them all out? So be it. The place needed to burn, too much tragedy had occurred within those walls to allow it to remain standing. And yet here he was, he'd survived it. They'd both survived. They were on their way home. To safety. He wanted to laugh and cry, this was only the first hurdle and yet he felt like it was the home stretch.  
“Waylon.. I can't do this..”  
“Yes you can. We're going together, just like I promised.” Waylon's grip on Eddie's jacket grew a smidge tighter for a moment, offering him a small reassuring smile. “I'm not going to leave you. This place doesn't hold any power over you, no matter what you think.”  
“I'm not ready..”  
“We'll face it together.” He paused letting Eddie lean against the bonnet. “I.. don't know how I'm going to do back there either.. but I'm glad you're with me. You watch my back, I'll make sure I've got yours.”  
Eddie looked at his hand and made his way to the passenger door, climbing in and leaning into the embrace of the seat. He was blanched and covered in a cold sweat, eyes wrenched shut. Waylon climbed into the driver seat and fumbled for the keys in the sun shield. The engine roared to life and Waylon couldn't remember the last time he'd heard something so comforting, Eddie jolted slightly and buckled himself in. His gaze was fixated on the building ahead of him and his brows dipped.  
“Are you ready?”  
Eddie gnawed at his lower lip, and flicked the radio on, closing his eyes and letting the tune it played wash over him. He fidgeted, examining the hole it the backpack. Thankfully it had taken most of the hit Blaire landed on him, a bottle of pills was broken, some powdered up ad others just a bit broken. But it was enough. He buckled himself in and pulled the sun shield down, nodding.  
_  
_

_ But I can’t believe I’m letting you go _ __  
_ Maybe there’s no reason at all _ __  
_ For everything you never did wrong _ __  
_ I can’t believe I’m letting you go _ __  
_ Was it everything that you never said _ __  
_ I swear I had it right in my head _ __  
_ I can’t believe I’m letting you go _ _  
_ __ I can’t believe I’m letting you go

  
  
Waylon reversed shakily and managed a two point turn, the music grew louder and he saw Eddie turning it up to the point he could barely hear the morning bird song outside the jeep. The shaking had grown worse and he noticed his eyes were glassy. Waylon reached over, grabbing Eddie's hand and giving it another squeeze. The man looked at him, eyes wide and small streams running from the corners. He looked so different. No, he looked like he had the day they met. He was relying on him all over again. Scared and vulnerable. Eddie took his hand back and grabbed onto the handle at his side. The gates weren't opening and Waylon wasn't going to let wrought iron stand between him and freedom. The engine revved, just about audible over the pounding of the music.  


_ The harder you try to follow the light _ __  
_ The brighter it shines _ __  
_ Burning your eyes _ __  
_ It’s time to let go _ __  
  
_ The harder you hold _ __  
_ The higher you go _ __  
_ The further you fall _ __  
_ Breaking your bones _ _  
_ __ It’s time to let go

 

He took his foot off the brakes and the Jeep shot forward, the gates were no match for the force that impacted it; the clatter was just a dull ringing as he sped down the twisting road. The sun was starting to pour in through the breaks in the trees and the road didn't look nearly as uninviting as it had when he'd made his way up here on his first day. He'd loved being able to drive home at the end of the day and now that feeling was rushing over him again.  
“We don't have long. My home's an hour away.” He offered a small smile and Eddie nodded, eyes closed. It was short and sharp, the redness in his cheeks highlighting his facial wounds. The tears must have stung a little, but he didn't seem perturbed. It was fine, sometimes a good cry was all it took, even if he knew it'd take more than a few tears to help Eddie. But it was a start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But I can’t believe I’m letting you go  
> Maybe there’s no reason at all  
> For everything you never did wrong  
> I can’t believe I’m letting you go"  
> Gabrielle Aplin - Letting You Go
> 
>   
> Sorry it took so long to update, this was a chapter that I had to re-write a couple of times before I really worked out quite what it was I wanted to do with it. Thankfully I've gotten a new flush of inspiration!  
> Thank you for all the kudos and the comments you've left me, they fuel my habit <3  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	12. Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first pit-stop of the ride home, Waylon worries about picking up basic supplies and Eddie almost pleasantly surprises him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'You call the sea the ocean  
> You say the kings alive  
> You live your life in motion  
> I like to take my time  
> And you don't like to talk about it  
> Why do we fight  
> Why do we fight every night when
> 
> We fit together, together so well  
> But when we fall apart  
> There's something missing I can tell  
> We fit together, together so well  
> But when we fall apart  
> There's something missing I can tell'

Since they'd set off on the road, gradually Eddie had turned down the radio, which admittedly Waylon was incredibly thankful for as his ear drums had started to protest. He understood why he wanted to do it though, he'd always found he was most relaxed when he had his headphones on and the music up, it was just a coping mechanism. Waylon shook his head and glanced at Eddie. The tears had stopped and his expression was more that of boredom, looking out the window and taking in the sight of the woods.  
“What do you mean? It's right at the foot of the mountain.”  
“Don't you think Murkoff are going to be looking for us?” Eddie cast his gaze at Waylon, still leaning on his palm. “I know they got slaughtered in there, but really. No response from the team means they'll be sending more backup there. Didn't you say they'd been hassling Lisa anyway?”  
“What do you want to do?”  
“We need to find somewhere to stay the night, throw them off our trail and then we'll go.”  
“But staying still means that we'll be easier to find.”  
Eddie smirked and shrugged. “I'm just saying you won't want to be putting Lisa and the boys in the line of fire.”  
Waylon pinched the bridge of his nose. They could stop at the lodge just a stone's throw across the mountain, they'd stayed there for a little while once before and whilst it was peaceful it was still too close to the asylum for his taste. “Would you prefer to start small?”  
Eddie's brows dipped and didn't reply. Really when was the last time that Eddie had actually met someone who wasn't from the asylum? It was probably an overwhelming thought for him, after all he was still flitting between being all over him and giving him the cold shoulder. Then there was what to do if Eddie got out of line around his family.. If there was a way to talk to them before they got there and warn them, he might be able to make it easier to adjust into the transition. There was only so understanding Lisa would be, especially if she thought he'd put the boys at risk.  
“Okay, so we'll take a pit stop. It's fine Eddie.” He knew he had to placate him, but he was the kind that seemed to recluse the more you made an attempt to comfort him. Of course he was going to make it difficult. “Besides, we should check out your shoulder.” Hopefully putting a pang of pragmatism would help him. The man's expression softened somewhat, but that tenseness in his jaw remained. _It's fine. You can do this Waylon, you've got this._

It was a simple little detour, a left instead of a right. The gas station looked quaint and simple, it was more of a corner store that sold it in cannisters for the sake of camping; which really seemed the worst idea given the asylum not twenty miles away. Even though there was only one person in there, the cashier, Waylon couldn't help but he hyper aware of everything that was going on around him. Eddie was strolling around inspecting the scarcely stocked shelves, stealing glances between the items, Waylon and the assumed owner; the man at the cashier was greying with an odd combination of laugh and frown lines on his features. He also seemed to be giving them a scrutinous look, or maybe he wasn't and Waylon was just getting himself wound up again. Since working at Murkoff he'd known that his nerves had been wrecked, but he felt like it was just some trade off for the money they were paying him, now what did he have to show for it?  
It grew apparent that the cashier had said something when Eddie's hand came clamping down on Waylon's shoulder and put on his best neurotypical smile. If Waylon hadn't known the truth, he might have actually believed that Eddie was just someone who was living with disfigurement rather than the result of heinous experimentation.  
“We need gas for the car and a map. Can you can hook us up with some?” Eddie replied pleasantly and Waylon shook his head trying to piece together the conversation he was missing.  
“A map? You boys gone on a road trip and y'forgot a map?” The man behind the register seemed oddly amused.  
“Last minute bucket list.” Eddie replied a little solemnly, but the playful smirk remained in place, the gesture to his face was slight but it left an awkward silence hanging.  
“When'dya get diagnosed?”  
“A few months ago. The treatment's been a little aggressive.” Waylon blinked, remembering a fragment of a conversation he'd heard in the lab. Something about cancers appearing in patients undergoing the hormone therapy side of the M.E. Did Eddie actually have cancer? His chest thudded and Eddie squeezed his shoulder once more, his gaze not leaving the owner of the store, but he was more than aware of the panic rising within his friend. “But they said it would help more like this.”  
“Damn, son.” The man scratched his pale stubble and pushed himself off the counter, gathering things up from the store. “They're making leaps and bounds these days, I hope it works out for you.”  
“Fingers crossed.” Eddie beamed once more, letting his hand drop from Waylon's shoulder.  
“Where are you tryin' to get to?” The man opened up a spiral bound roadmap of the US and set it on the counter, pointing to where they were on the map right now. “Leadville's just at the foot of the mountain, they've got ghost city tours this time of year. I think it's all in bad taste, but what would an old coot like me know about successful tourism?” Eddie laughed and shook his head.

Waylon watched the two of them waxing poetic over the map and where he wanted to get to. Eddie talked about going to a cabin and staying there a few days before he headed home to give them all the bad news about the treatment this time around. And for a split second or two, Waylon almost found himself believing the man. The two were laughing, cracking jokes and talking about the best places to go for signal reception because his 'buddy was the kind of guy who needed to be sat near his computer. City slicker's too used to Cali' he wanted to resent him, he really did, but he was just so good at it. This must have been how Eddie survived all these years before he got picked up, had he just grown sloppy when the police caught up with him? Bored? Lonely? Fed up of being on the run- no he was enjoying this too much, all he could think was perhaps it was because he got tired of whatever mental baggage triggered the aggressive changes in him. Maybe he was being too naïve about it, after all there were people that revelled in their cruelty out there, he was sure Eddie was capable of it. Every once in a while he'd glance back at Waylon, a smug look would flash across his scarred features if only for a split second. Was he showing off? The next thing Waylon knew was the two were laughing once more and exchanged loud masculine slap like pats to the upper arm and a quick hand shake that was incredibly informal. Map in hand and a cannister in tow Eddie proudly walked over to Waylon and nodded to the jeep outside. It had all happened so fast. Had he been staring in horror so open mouthed for that long or was it really all over in just a split second? Eddie was a regular con-artist.

“How did you do that?” He chose his words carefully, speaking slowly so as to not bust the apparent bubble of joy he was riding on.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Lie so easily. It wasn't true at all. You don't have cancer do you?” He loaded the cannister into the back seat, searching the other man for some sort of tell. Sometimes he had to wonder if he really was all that good at reading people and if it wasn't just his paranoia; Eddie made him look like a novice.  
Eddie laughed and leant back on the jeep, looking to the door to the store and waving to the guy inside. “You offer them a little piece of truth when you're lying. I wasn't lying when I said we were looking to recover from a heavy emotional trauma before actually heading home. You need to clear your head before we get back to your family and I need to make sure I've got The Groom in check. He had a picture on the counter and on the walls, it was just him and a woman, no children or any sign of it. Where is she now? He's still wearing the wedding band but she wasn't around. I never said I had cancer to him, but I hinted.” He paused as he clambered into the passenger seat, waiting for Waylon to get into the driver's seat. “He was the one that ran with the idea of cancer, so he's either lost someone to it, or he's just incredibly sympathetic about it. Anyway,” Eddie fished out the map and set it on his knee, half propped against the dashboard. “He said the best lodges are a couple of miles down the road from here, instead of turning off to Leadville on the next junction you want to take a left, that'll keep us on the mountain.”  
“We're only going to stay there one night. I don't even have any cash on me, how do we know they'll take plastic?” Waylon felt like he was barely keeping up with his train of thought. Here he thought he'd be the one to help them the most whilst they were out of the asylum and yet Eddie was handling everything with an almost obscene level of control.  
“Don't use your card, they'll probably be tracking it.” Eddie shook his head. The smirk that crept on his features was awful when he brandished a debit card between his fingers and waved it smugly.  
“Where did you get- Who's is that?” Waylon tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he was getting a sinking feeling of dread. He hadn't lifted it off that nice store owner had he?  
“It was in the glove compartment, Miles won't be needing it for a bit.” He shrugged, pocketing it in his blazer. Waylon was tempted to slam the breaks on and have a good talk with Eddie about property and how you respect other people's stuff.. but he was right. He knew he was, if they could pick up on an onion router using Tor then tracking his cards wouldn't be a problem. Shit how did this even happen? “Oh, don't look at me like that. You want them to realise you made it out alive and be on your heels? We've got the element of surprise right now, they don't know we've escaped and we can get a head start. Now's not the time for you to suddenly develop a picky moral compass, especially when you're travelling with _me_ of all people.”  
“God you're an ass.” Waylon muttered shaking his head. He couldn't look at him, he knew the look he was giving him and he knew it'd be as cold as the ridiculing tone he was using. “We keep track of everything we spend and I'm paying him back. Got it?”  
“What's he going to use it for? He's not like you and me anymore, he's overrun by nano-machines and can rip people apart with a thought, how do you hide that?”  
“I can't believe he stayed there..”  
“Clearly he's got new priorities since the Walrider scrambled his brain, try not to dwell on it, _dear_.”  
Eddie's idea of comfort was questionable at best. Waylon kept trying to remind himself that empathy wasn't something that would come easily with him and yet he still felt himself getting wound up at the man.  
“Keep being an asshole and you're walking.”  
“I don't know why you're insisting on worrying about him, he said for us to leave and we're doing that. Besides he survived Chris Walker being on his tail. He's got it covered.”  
“How do you know that? The Walrider could have scrambled his brain and what if he doesn't know what he's saying?”  
Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, that tension in his jaw returning. “What could we do for him? Really? It sucks what happened, yes, but what can we do outside of calling that Frank guy and giving them the camcorders?”

The road narrowed somewhat, the banks either side had begun taking up more room until they overgrew into the road; not many people must have really driven down this part. The trees enveloped with one another above, only small lines of light making it through to the route below, even in broad daylight it felt like he was driving at night. Part of him was hoping that this attitude Eddie was giving him wouldn't be forever, he'd seen how kind he was capable of being. Perhaps pragmatism was his idea of comfort, lay the facts out and rationalise what he could.  
“I really hope you're right.”  
“I'm not going to lie to make you feel better, I don't know, and you won't either until he finds us. No point wasting energy worrying about it.”  
“I know there's _no point_. But it doesn't stop it from just..” Waylon groaned. “Forget it.”  
“Why? Because I couldn't possibly understand paranoia and anxiety?” Eddie shook his head and gave a humourless laugh, sinking further back into his chair. “I'm a piece of work? Pot, meet kettle.”  
“You're just so sure of yourself, telling me to not worry doesn't make a difference. It's like saying 'stop being on fire' when someone's burning.”  
The man sucked on his lips, that indignant look on his face slowly easing off. “Alright. What helps?”  
“I don't know”  
“Ground yourself. Tell me five things you can see.”  
“Uh.. The road, the dashboard, trees, my hands and the hud.”  
“Good. Four things you can hear.”  
“You being a prick.” Eddie snorted and gestured for him to carry on. “The engine, the breeze outside and the wheels going over old twigs.”  
“Alright, three things you can touch.”  
“The steering wheel, the gear stick and my hoodie.”  
“Right, now, touch them.” Waylon glanced incredulously at Eddie as he looked between him and the steering wheel with a sort of 'duh' expression. “Two things you can smell.”  
“...The fact this car isn't my own and that I'm in dire need of a shower.” The last he'd showered was before he got unceremoniously left at the chapel; even if it wasn't that long ago he'd been running around too much since then. Remembering that suddenly made him acutely aware of the fact he'd been running on only a couple of hours of sleep. The sooner they were at the cabin, the better.  
“Shower at the cabin. And now, take one deep breath.” Eddie watched Waylon's chest rise and fall and nodded firmly when he'd done it. “One step at a time, we're going to check in for the night, get a good night's sleep and then we'll head to Leadville. Good?”  
“Yeah.. Sorry.” Eddie shook his head with a half-hearted shrug, notably the temper that was threatening to boil over had simmered off. Perhaps he felt a little awkward about it in hindsight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I'm not looking for redemption  
> I don't wanna see the light  
> All I want is your attention  
> All I want, all I want is love  
> I don't think you can deny me  
> Let's go smoke and make a fire
> 
> You don't like to talk about it  
> Why do we fight  
> Why do we fight every night when'  
> Together - Gabrielle Aplin  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	13. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night at the lodge, The Groom begins pushing the boundaries and Waylon realises that there might be more give in them than he previously thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I shiver when you touch my skin,  
> and I know without asking  
> You’re right there where you wanna be  
> You’re right here in front of me
> 
> And you talk about travelling  
> Where we’ll go and where we’ve been  
> But the scene you’re building out  
> All I see is it coming down
> 
> Oh, you are so good, I know that this is gonna hurt  
> I don’t think we should, you know it’s never gonna work  
> There’s things that you can’t see  
> You’re way too close to me  
> This one is gonna hurt'

It was all fairly quaint when you looked at it. Rolling hillside, thick lush forestry all around, a small path that lead to the lake, the fire was already lit in the cabin that was modestly decorated. The cow skull hanging above the door was a little foreboding, but after everything Waylon was fairly sure he'd seen far worse. Eddie had already made himself at home, kicked off his boots and took up the entirety of the sofa, draped languidly across the thing. Waylon grimaced, remembering the small wound on his back that was probably staining the cover. But it was quiet, something he still couldn't get used to. Check in was painless, Eddie did all the talking once again and used Miles' card, much to Waylon's internal grumbles of protest. A cabin out of the way from the others that was cozy, that was all they'd asked. There were two rooms, something which no doubt would cause some sort of ruckus if The Groom was to make an appearance. Eddie seemed to spend the afternoon dozing on the sofa, drifting between nigh comatose and restlessly getting up, pacing, looking outside and then collapsing back on it again. Waylon was determined to get signal somehow, unfortunately, this area seemed to be the sort of place that needed a satellite phone to get any sort of reception. He groaned, no doubt it'd be better when they got closer to the town.  
They ate at the main lodge which felt incredibly odd given that they were the only two people staying at the moment; apparently the crowds for the hunting had already been and gone and the owner was just waiting on the 'usual' Christmas customers to gather. Really Waylon wished that they could eat their dinner in peace and quiet, but Eddie seemed to be enjoying talking with the owner and absorbing every little bit of gossip and information he possibly could. Maybe he'd just sit and read when they got back to the cabin if Eddie would let him. Which sounded worse in retrospect than he'd intended.  
There was an air of awkwardness when they returned, the two of them discovering that one was a very definite introvert and the other was clearly extroverted. Eddie wanted to talk, but Waylon wanted to shut himself away from people and recharge. What was there to even talk about? They barely knew one another really and Waylon was no good at small talk. The tension must have been apparent given the look he'd received from Eddie before he grabbed something off the bookshelf and occupying himself with reading like Waylon was trying.

It was just as Waylon was drifting off on the lounger that he felt Eddie's warm hand on his shoulder. The look in his eyes wasn't that of the cold and calculating man he'd been driving with since 5am that morning, he looked too excited.  
“Darling, this is perfect.” He pulled away and gestured to the room. Instead of the overhead light on, there were candles lit around the room in combination with the dull light of the fireplace and the lamps on the side table. “Perfect for our Honeymoon.”  
“Eddie,” Waylon stretched and rubbed his eyes. He was too sleepy to really be completely on edge, and not knowing that The Groom was aware of the other. “this isn't our Honeymoon, we're on our way to my place.. you wanted a pit-stop beforehand, didn't you?”  
Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, given the expression that briefly flashed over his features. “But this would be ideal..” Bending reality and the logic to fit with the delusion. It probably sounded like Waylon wanted to take him home before they got into anything. “Will we be coming back?”  
“I don't know Eddie.” He rubbed his eyes again, wiping away the sleep dust. It was pitch black outside, too overcast to see any moonlight. “Hopefully not, we're still a bit close to the asylum for my liking... How.. are you?”  
“I'm fine as long as I'm near you, darling.” He beamed, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. It was like an automated response rather than anything relatively close to what he was actually thinking. “You look tired.”  
“Can you blame me?”  
“What a shame, I'm not particularly fond of the books here.”  
“That's what you get for sleeping through the day.” Although he had to wonder just how much sleep Eddie actually had before their nap in the cafeteria. “I'm going to call it a night, this isn't doing my back any good.”  
As Waylon got to his feet he was rapidly aware of the hopeful little smile that crossed Eddie's features. He was already on his feet and made his way after the engineer to his room. He was convinced this should have been the honeymoon, the first night after being 'married' and suddenly Waylon found himself being intently watched by The Groom as he pulled his hoodie off over his head.  
“Eddie yours is the room next to mine.”  
“Nonsense.”  
With that The Groom set the blazer on the back of a chair an began unbuttoning his shirt. Apparently there wasn't much room for arguing as he kicked off his slacks and crawled into the bed. Waylon sighed, telling himself that he could always wait out Eddie and go clamber into the other bed and sleep there. But, the man had a vice grip. As Waylon got into the bed, The Groom's arm stretched out neatly tucking under his neck and the other wrapping around his waist. He didn't want to admit it, but he found it incredibly comfortable even if he was typically used to being the proverbial big spoon. The bed was warm and inviting and Waylon really wondered if he could be bothered to give up the radiator behind him and get into the other room. He decided against it, letting his eyes close and beginning to drift once more to the sound of Eddie's breathing and the wilderness outside.

 _Everything hurt. He felt so groggy, like he'd been unconscious for hours. It was dark all except for the small light pouring in from the grates of the locker. Why was he back in a locker? Waylon tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. All he could do was stare at the bloodied table ahead of him. It had a massive circular saw at the end of it. Why was there so much blood? He recognised the sing-song voice in the distance, carrying on casually despite the cries of another man. At first he didn't recognise who The Groom had in tow, not from the back and stripped down at least. The man was stark naked and being dragged along by his scruffy ponytail, screaming obscenities and scrabbling at The Groom's hand. As he was thrown down on the table and strapped down, Waylon finally saw his face. It was Miles. Immediately Waylon hammered at the locker door, howling for Eddie to let the man go. He was kicking and screaming as Miles spat in Eddie's face, a snarl curling his upper lip. The sign of insolence was met with a harsh backhanded slap. He was obviously yelling back at Miles, but he couldn't really hear what he was saying despite the volume. The knife was plunged into his stomach rather than between his legs, and Miles began thrashing as hard as he could._  
“You're disgusting and you've given up on love.” The Groom hissed, pulling the knife out and stabbing him in the stomach once again. “You're not fit for the wedding. You're not fit for me. You're not fit for my darling.”  
“Stop it. Stop it, leave him alone!” Waylon could feel tears rolling down his face as he watched in horror at the light fading from Miles' eyes. The reporter croaked one last expletive before he passed, his head rolling back and giving in. The engineer hammered at the locker door, he knew he shouldn't be attracting the mad man's attention, but he was also done sitting on his haunches. He could have stopped this, if only he'd done something; what that something was he had no idea. He couldn't remember why he was in there, what had lead to this point.  
“But darling, I'm doing this for you.” The Groom appeared at the grate, fingers caressing the cold metal. There was a tremble in his voice, brows dipped as he searched Waylon's expression. “You mean.. You cared, about that worthless whore? You cared more about that than us? Everything we have?”  
“Why did you do it? Why did you have to-” Waylon hammered at the door, gasping for breath through the choked sobbing. “He didn't do anything to you, he **helped us**. Fuck, Eddie.”  
“She was unworthy of you. Infected...”  
The room grew dark, the light above the table flickering with a fizz before popping, plunging them into darkness. Waylon could have sworn he heard Lisa's voice, distant and distorted, but she was calling out for him. The Groom turned away from Waylon, a distant buzzing noise permeating the air. It sounded like a circular saw. All Waylon could hear was shrill inhuman howling and the foul sound of metal on bone. The Groom crying out in pain and then silence. Waylon looked around the room, squinting, trying to see something, **anything** in the darkness.  
“They hate fire.” The voice sounded like Miles, talking right in his ear. He looked around the inside of the locker, wondering how Miles had gotten in there, Eddie had killed him right?  
When Waylon looked to the hole in the front of the locker, he was met with a warped and gaunt pale face. At first he didn't recognise it but the few wisps of wild hair tipped him off. Before he could shout at the being, the circular saw sliced into the locker.

 

Waylon woke with a jolt, a cold sweat soaking his forehead. The moon was still bright outside, the room just illuminated enough to see Eddie's face. The expression on it wasn't as relaxed as it was when he saw him back in the cafeteria, there was a distinctive scowl. Waylon took a few deep breaths, trying to shake that cramping feeling that crept up his spine; the nightmare still fresh in his memory. His chest hurt, not that that wasn't an unusual symptom in him, thanks to the anxiety. If he drifted back off to sleep now, he knew very well that it'd send him right back into that nightmare or something awfully similar.  
“Darling?” There was a slight edge to The Groom's voice. There was a harshness that only seemed to appear when it was Eddie, and yet.. the pet names.  
“I thought it'd be easier to sleep when we got away from there..” Waylon replied sheepishly. Really he was a little embarrassed that he'd woken him up in the first place. Had he been thrashing? He knew he was a possibility even if it hadn't happened since childhood, Mount Massive had been a traumatic enough experience to perhaps make the habit resurface. He glanced at Eddie; the man pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning under his breath.  
“I could protect you there, darling.” He sighed. Even if there was a hint of resentment, once again his broad arm was slipped under Waylon's neck and the other draped over his waist, pulling him closer. His heart beat was strong and loud, the rhythm oddly soothing, something to focus on. His arms only squeezed him lightly, but Waylon thought of them as a barrier, something to keep the world and everything in it at bay. The way he dipped his head to nuzzle into the mess of honey-blonde hair and breathed slow and deeply. Waylon could feel his chest pang once again, but this time it was more of a sinking feeling, that dread when you realise what you've been forgetting all this time. But it was so easy to forget with him sometimes and he knew how easy it would be to just keep playing along with him. He could pretend to be his bride, all to keep him happy, give him an easy life.  
“We weren't safe there, not really.” Waylon uttered sadly. He hated to pop Eddie's bubble, to have to drag him back into reality, who was he to tell him he'd be happier accepting the truth?  
“It was my home. I know my own land, darling.”  
“Eddie, I don't want to fight about this.” He shook his head, burying himself against Eddie further. It was fine like this. He was running, but he wasn't about to stop and look back, not until he'd made it out of the woods.  
“You're frightened again, aren't you?”  
“I'm.. still thinking about what happened at Mount Massive.” Waylon decided it was best to not tell Eddie what happened in the dream, but at least, it seemed to hit home with The Groom.  
“...I know thinking about it brings back painful thoughts, darling. But it all lead me to you. We found each other through it didn't we?” He paused. “Perhaps that brings me more comfort than it does you.”  
“We can't do this.”  
“And yet here we are.” The Groom's eyes lit up, that once vacant smile finally reaching. He looked so excited. “We could leave all this behind. Forget everything and make our own way.”  
“There's too many unanswered questions. I'm in too deep to just turn back- I've seen too much to just forget about it. It's not something I'm going to be able to just get over. You of all people should understand that.”  
The expression faded, the man's jaw clenched and closed his eyes. _She's dragging us around._  
_**He's**_ _speaking sense. Hold your horses._  
We could go to the farm. Reclaim it.  
I'm never setting foot there again.  
Is it really so poisoned?  
You exist partially because of it. Yes. It's that poisoned.  
  
When Eddie grew quiet like this, it made Waylon wonder just how fragmented he was now. The Groom before showed no real signs of acknowledging anything else, his file said that he couldn't talk about his childhood. What made him suddenly go all California Coffee shop on him? Unless he really was leading him on. The engineer could feel his heart pounding in his chest again, acid reflux threatening to make good on its promises it'd made back in the asylum.  
“I'm sorry. Maybe in another life.” Waylon winced, he _hated_ that cliché. But what was worse was part of him meant it. If he didn't have Lisa and the boys he would perhaps have been thinking more about travelling longer with Eddie. The Groom's eyes opened though admittedly narrowed. “I don't want to lead you on. I don't want to give you hope when there isn't any.” __  
“And yet here we are.”  
“You were the one who insisted- I don't have the energy to argue with you. Besides, you don't.. take no very well.”  
There was a low huff noise, The Groom withdrew his arms and leant up taking most of the warmth with him. He glanced over Waylon and looked away sharply, jaw so tight he must have been grinding his teeth. It was stubbornness that had kept him there, pushiness, so naturally now he was punishing him. The Groom swung his legs out of the bed and got up, grabbing the pillow and cast one last look over his shoulder. He was sizing him up, and Waylon had to fight the urge to pull the duvet up over his head.  
“Make as many excuses as you want, darling. We'll see who's willpower breaks first.”

He closed the door behind him, not quite a slam but the implication was there, leaving Waylon by himself. He knew this was for the best and what he should be doing, but he was just weak and lonely. Once he could check his emails and get back in touch with Lisa it wouldn't feel like he was floating in some bizarre subspace between reality and the hell of Mount Massive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'You feel cold in the summer sun,  
> Leaves fall and the winter comes  
> Why does it take us by surprise?  
> It’s been the story all our lives, oh
> 
> And boy, you know, the less you learn  
> What goes unsaid, doesn’t go unheard  
> If only I could help us both  
> Come round and wait from where we’re going
> 
> You are so good, I know that this is gonna hurt, I  
> I don’t think we should, you know it’s never gonna work  
> There’s things that you can’t see  
> You’re way too close to me  
> This one is gonna hurt'  
> Gabrielle Aplin - Hurt  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	14. Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon and Eddie reach Leadville on odd terms. Eddie keeps trying to work out what it is he really feels for Waylon, whilst the programmer is busy dealing with his own internal demons. Unfortunately, Leadville doesn't exactly hold what they were hoping it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Remember when you said you loved me?  
> Remember when you said that it would all work out?  
> We packed up and we left one morning  
> And everything you promised didn't happen, and now
> 
> I'm swirling softly  
> Drifting like the cream in your coffee  
> And you're talking calmly
> 
> When I'm scared  
> To be on our own  
> When the thrill is gone  
> And I'm scared  
> Thinking what we've done  
> To try to love someone  
> Baby can you keep your promise?  
> Baby can I keep you honest?  
> Cause I'm scared"

The morning was quiet. Eddie didn't really speak much to Waylon, hell he didn't even give him much acknowledgement. Then again after everything he'd said to him last night, he shouldn't have been surprised, even if The Groom wasn't the one in control the impression he left was still there, come to think of it they'd been very similar the night before. It was going to be fine, he just needed to drive for an hour and he'd be back in Leadville, get things sorted. He could do this, there was absolutely no need to pay any mind to the way his stomach knotted, his skin crawled and fought back the urge to apologise. He realistically knew that he hadn't done anything wrong in establishing boundaries, but Eddie was learning how to play him like a finely tuned instrument. It was a shitty thing to do, and yet probably so was accepting his body heat and rebuffing him the next breath. _So, we're both shitty people. Wonderful. Takes one to know one though doesn't it?_

Waylon winced, rubbing at the nape of his neck. It felt strange to sleep in an actual bed again, his neck and shoulders were finally starting to protest the hard floors which he'd found moments of sanctuary in at Mount Massive. He knew he needed to stop dwelling on it but it kept gnawing at the back of his mind. Eddie of all people should have understood it, but the man was too busy operating on his own cold brand of survival mode, making it rapidly apparent that the two of them dealt with things very differently. He wanted to reach out to him, to apologise and talk about it, but he knew Eddie would take it as submission – something he couldn't afford.

Eddie dropped the rucksack on the coffee table, hair fresh from the shower he'd taken. He'd been in there for nearly an hour, probably enjoying hot running water finally. He was shifting, the tension in his jaw from last night wasn't anywhere to be seen, but he wouldn't keep his eyes on him for long. Perhaps he was embarrassed? It was easy to think the worst with him, yes, but maybe he needed to be the one to break the ice.  
“Didn't realise how much I missed showers.” It came out awkwardly, the volume off and mostly mumbled until he realised how quietly he was talking and seemed to just proclaim 'Missed showers.' Eddie glanced over at the engineer, sat at the breakfast bar and blinked a few times, trying to process exactly what he'd just heard. He coughed, clearing his throat and gave a slight hum back in agreement. Well, it was something. “...Did..you” _No, don't ask him if he slept alright, that's just going to make this even worse._ “Are you ready to head back to Leadville?”  
Eddie grimaced, but there was a slight nod again. “Whenever you are.” He sighed. His tone didn't lend itself to being believable that he was indeed actively ready and willing to go, but more of a weariness. Waylon glanced at him and noticed the outline of one of Eddie's pill bottles in his slacks pocket. Well, that explained the doziness, though the bags under his eyes that were starting to become visible through the scar tissue told a different story.  
“You can sleep for a bit on the drive down?” Waylon offered, the smile was thin and a little forced. Eddie didn't reply again, picking up the bag and slinging over his shoulder, showing off the hastily done stitch job to the front where Blaire had stabbed him.

Check out was painless, they dropped the keys back into the man's hand and hit the road once more, instead of sleeping Eddie reached for the radio dial and cranked up the volume once more. It wasn't deafening, just a little louder than Waylon would have had it on. He knew now it was a relaxing technique he used, last night must have been playing on his mind still.  
“Eddie... I'm sorry about last night.” The tension returned in the older man's jaw, but he kept staring ahead of him, eyes following the road than deigning to look at Waylon. “I like you, I really do, but-”  
“You did the right thing,” He replied sharply. It was almost like a bark. “I respect your boundaries but the Groom doesn't. As far as he's concerned you're his.” Eddie paused, worrying the skin of his lower lip between his teeth and looked out the window. _I know better_.  
“I'm... I'm worried about you, that's all. You haven't said a word to me all morning.”  
“Waylon, I'm about to meet your family.” He shifted. “I'm a known serial killer with a tendency to believe that you're my blushing bride, psychological scarring and PTSD. I don't think either me or your wife are especially thrilled at the prospect, do you?”  
“She doesn't know about _you_. She just knows I'm coming with someone in tow.”  
“My childhood and crimes are public record, I'm astounded no one's recognised me yet.”  
“It'll be alright, Lisa knows how fucked up Murkoff are.”  
“She may also know how fucked up _I am_.”  
“It's not your fault.”  
Eddie laughed, it was cold and humourless, cruel. “Cool motive, still murder. That's the phrase isn't it?”  
“Eddie.”  
“Don't take the heat for me. You've done enough of putting your neck out for my sake.”  
“And you've helped me too. I can't just forget that.” Waylon frowned. “We're in this together right? We're looking out for each other. I can handle it.”

Eddie heaved a sigh and leant on his palm. There wasn't any arguing the point with him on this, Waylon was going to keep being stubborn. What had he even done to really deserve it? Manipulated him into helping him get free and here he was, in too deep to be able to scramble back and turn on him. Simply put, Waylon was too useful to double cross. It'd have been easy to just snap his neck in that cabin and go. He could have left him to burn in the Chapel, he could have let Walker destroy him and the reporter. But each time he thought about it, his mind presented him with what felt like an endless list of reasons to not follow through. Some of the reasons were practical like 'witnesses' or 'I need him to do x'; others weren't quite as good. 'I like the way his hair falls over his face when he's concentrating.' 'He's kind.' 'He cares.' 'He has a family.' All those women before had families but it didn't stop him. He winced, tensing his jaw and switched at the radio stations.  
' _Can't stop watching you/_ _Little things you do that make me weak'_ Eddie grimaced and flicked the dial once more, feeling that somehow the universe was trying to make fun of him. '- _rld was on fire/ no one could save me but you/it's strange what desire will make foolish people-.' 'What's love got to do with it? What's love but a second-hand emotion?'_  
“Are you going to settle on anything?” Waylon shot a look at Eddie, brow hiked up his forehead, seemingly unaware of the inner turmoil the man was suffering.  
“Does he have any CDs in here?”  
“What? -Ugh Eddie, I don't know. When we're home we can grab some, can't you just put up with the radio for half an hour?”  
He wrinkled his nose and left it on a station that was playing the opening chords to a tune. A simple repetitive tune on an acoustic guitar. Easy enough for Waylon to tune out. Normally he was pretty good at tuning out the radio, having kids when on a road trip up to Lisa's parents' cabin was a test of willpower sometimes. The agreement was they could bring one of their CDs and play it twice, the rest of the way they settled on a mix cd of the latest pop music, granted it was a little more 00's orientated. However, since his kids didn't get the chance to sit in the front, they weren't exactly inclined to skip music incessantly. He knew he was bad with his own music, but that was why he made playlists of music he liked at that point, unfortunately, he didn't have that kind of luxury here.  
_There'll be oats in the water / there'll be birds on the ground/ There'll be things you never asked her..._  
Of course, he had to pick something that sounded just that little bit sinister, why wouldn't he. Waylon sighed, focusing more on the twanging than any implications there might have been assuming. Honestly it made the descent into Leadville that little bit worse. During the autumn months they always did ghost town tours, it was part of how the state made it's money in tourism. He just forgot how deserted the place normally looked. It was a sleepy town; it must have made Lisa go stir crazy being cooped up here. People watched them as they drove past and Waylon felt that creeping up the back of his spine; it felt wrong. And what made it worse was how he couldn't tell whether he was being paranoid and having a anxious flare up thanks to that morning, or if it was something going on. Would word have reached the town about what was going on up at the asylum? Whispers and rumours maybe, but this wasn't his car. It was Miles'. Had he been poking around before he reached Mt. Massive or were people genuinely that unfriendly to outsiders around here? Eddie seemed to be somewhat on edge, not that wasn't really unusual since they left. Even when he was charming the locals there was a tenseness about him that may have gone completely unnoticed if you didn't know him. It was subtle body language, everything about him was hints and glimpses you only got if you were the analytical type.

“Last chance saloon, Eddie.” Waylon tried to keep it jovial, but there was a distinctive trace of nerves. “If you want to make another stop before we get home, now's the time to say.”  
“You know, I'm starting to think my chances are better with your wife than the locals..” He uttered with a grimace. An older gent with an impressive mass of white hair and matching beard was raking his lawn, studying the jeep as they rolled through the street. “Murkoff sure know how to pick friendly neighbourhoods to settle next to.”  
“They weren't this.. well, they weren't like this when we first moved here.” Waylon rubbed the nape of his neck, stretching it slightly to try and relieve the tension building in his shoulders. “I don't want to do a Ben Kenobi and jinx this but-”  
“You have a bad feeling about this?”  
“Yeah..”  
The gesture was small, but effective, a brief squeeze on the engineer's shoulder as Eddie tried to remain focused on the road in front of them rather than the eerie old man squinting at them. At least, he was validating his feelings of unease rather than telling him to nut up and shut up again. Looked like Eddie was indeed capable of learning.  
They pulled into the drive in front of the garage. The house itself was modest, two stories, a garage attached at the side an unkempt lawn and hedgerow. If the Groom had been in control at that point, Waylon was sure all he'd hear about was how horrendously they kept their house. But instead, Eddie was hunched, looking out the windscreen with an eyebrow cocked.  
“...You're sure this is it? It doesn't look like anyone's in.”  
“Lisa's not chained to the stove, Eddie, she does indeed venture into the outside world. Shockingly she socialises, goes to the movies, ghastly for a lady I know.” He smirked, even as he got a light backhanded slap to his upper arm and a 'psht' for his effort at humour.  
“I've seen a house that's got cops waiting inside and this looks like one.” Yet, despite his paranoia, Eddie got out of the car and began looking around. Why in the hell would the cops take over his house? Surely Murkoff couldn't get word out _that_ fast right? The asylum was in shambles when they left, the radio tower was all but impossible to use after Blaire's temper tantrum at him. Someone must have had a panic button up there.  
  
Waylon got out of the car and fished out his keys from his laptop bag, it still fit the lock, so that was a bonus at least. He turned it and heard the click as it unlocked, opening the door and looked around. He blinked. It was unlit, no one was home, but the stranger thing was, there was no furniture. What if Lisa hadn't been able to keep up with the payments Murkoff demanded? What if they sent out repo men to take everything to pay for it? No, Blaire had said they'd 'generously' cover the fees. So what if Murkoff had actually taken his family? His head raced, trying to piece together some form of explanation that didn't end in something horrific for his family. Eddie snapped him out of it as he slipped past him, walking around the house, opening cupboards and drawers. What he was looking for was beyond him, maybe he was hoping for a note or something?  
“I thought you said they were here?” Lord knew what Eddie was thinking, what if he thought he'd made up the entire thing? It wasn't likely he could have, he saw the photo of Lisa and the boys. He'd seen emails. No, there was too much evidence to point to him telling the truth for The Groom to get any further ideas.  
  
“I don't.. Lisa would have told me if they've left.” Lisa couldn't have given up on him, could she? Perhaps it was the stressful start to the day that was doing it, but his eyes prickled. What was he supposed to think? Where the hell were they?  
“Breathe.” Eddie said lowly, that same little squeeze at his shoulder. “She's smart. That's what you told me, right? If she had to leave, there would be a message. She wouldn't leave you in the dark if she was sending you emails every day for the last three weeks.”  
Waylon nodded, his hand covering his mouth and rubbing at the light stubble returning around his jaw. One minute Eddie was giving him the cold treatment and now he was actively trying to soothe his nerves, the whiplash he was getting from his moods wasn't really helping, but that was because he couldn't stop analysing everything they did. At least he wasn't going on about how he was sure that the police were waiting to jump them.  
“Hello?” The two jolted slightly and turned to look at the front door. There was a woman in probably her late forties, bottle blonde hair and natural looking makeup. She was in jogging gear and Waylon internally cringed. Typical suburban housewife with nothing better to do than to snoop in her neighbours' business. “Oh! Waylon, I thought you..” She trailled off and already Waylon began panicking all over again. “You know, I thought you and Lisa moved back to Boulder.”  
“Uh, yeah, she um,” Waylon shook his head. “Sorry I'm not good with names, I've been stuck at work.”  
“It's Helen.” She bobbed her head like she was some kind of bird, the look of pure offense spreading across her features that she wasn't remembered. “Helen at number 34?”  
_“This rank white bitch came around and you know what she said? We've been in this damn house for two days and she already has the nerve to march in here and tell me how our house has to look because it 'clashes with the rest of the neigbourhood'. Lady, I've got better things to be doing than making sure that our fucking hedge is under two feet tall to the inch. Fuckin' fight me, Helen, ya basic fucken' bitch... Urgh.. Sorry I've been sitting on that all day. She came here literally just after you left this morning when I'm trying to get the kids ready for school, but of course the world had to stop all for the sake of our hedges.”_  
Oh, he remembered now. She fit the description that Lisa gave to the absolute T, although he was still glad that the kids were in bed by the time she started ragging on about her. He awkwardly gave her a small wave. “Yeah, Lisa said that we were moving back, but she sent me in to just to do the last checks, you know?”  
“Did she say why she wanted to leave to you?” Eddie stepped forward and somewhat revelled at the way Helen's eyes widened slightly at his scarring.  
“Uh- Well there were a lot of business men that kept coming down, in the last few weeks, almost like clockwork. They'd knock at the door, demand to come in and she'd start sreaming at them that she'd get her lawyer on them. She was very secretive. You know makes me wonder if she isn't keeping something from her past from you, Waylon. She always did seem very.. questionable.” Helen gave a small melodramatic sigh. “Who is this Waylon? You haven't introduced us.”  
“He's a work colleague, he's helping me out.” Admittedly he replied a little fast, but that was mostly because he was fairly sure this woman was telling him that she was racist in not so many words. “What do you mean, _questionable_? That's my wife you're talking about.”  
“I'm just saying,” She put her hands up, but there was a sternness in her voice. “Legal business being made so public? The Neighbourhood was talking, it's not right.”  
“Have you considered she left the neighbourhood because of y-”  
“That's _very_ nice Helen, but I think we've got more pressing matters to be concerning ourselves with than your thinly veiled dislike for Lisa, don't we, hmm?” Eddie interjected, he didn't even bother looking at the woman, but he shooed her away in such a dismissive manner the woman gawked. “Now be a darling and run along would you? We've got a very long day ahead of us.” Helen lingered for a moment, completely gobsmacked that she was being spoken to in such a manner however Eddie didn't look all that bothered by her dumbstruck expression. “Helen, dear, I'm not a man who is in the habit of having to repeat himself.”  
It didn't take her long to get the message to leave, though neither of them could make out what she was muttering under her breath, but it was probably something about how dare they speak to her like that. Waylon couldn't help but stare at Eddie for a moment, equally as dumbstruck as he rifled through a kitchen drawer.  
“Where did-”  
“When dealling with women like that I just have to think: What would dear old daddy do? She won't show her face here again, but I'm sure she'll be telling the story of how horrifically rude we were for the next three months.”  
“That was cold.”  
“It's either that or invite conversation with her and then we'd never get anything done. Besides,” He leant up and waved a small slip of paper. “your wife is indeed a smart woman.”  
“Where did you find that?”  
“Sticky note stuck to the underside of one of the drawers in here, she was probably concerned Murkoff would have come snooping around for more dirt on you after she took the kids.”  
“How did she expect me to find that? She knows I'm awful at hiding things.”  
“She probably didn't. It could have just been something to make her feel better.” Eddie gave a shrug, handing the note over to Waylon. “Is that your old address?”  
“Yeah, we've got to get back to Boulder by the looks of it. Shit..” Waylon sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair. “At least it's only three hours from here.”  
“Back on the road again?” Waylon nodded wearily and turned to the front door. Eddie followed suit, partially wishing that this time around he could have a look around for some CDs before they took off. As much as he loved sitting in silence with Waylon, the disagreements that arose when they did speak to one another or the somewhat sinister muttering he heard from the Groom; somehow he figured drowning the noise out was the better option.

As they stepped out of the house the light felt a little overwhelming, despite the air having a distinct crisp nip, the light felt a little more intense than he had noticed before. It felt like there should have been frost on the ground, the sunlight not really providing much in the way of warmth, it wasn't even October yet and it still felt this chilly. He shuddered and fished out the keys to the jeep, and let them in. Waylon slumped against the seat and heaved a sigh, practically deflating with the effort that took. It was a sense of disappointment more than anything, like those dreams where the corridor gets longer each time you reach the end just to spit in the face of your effort and test your determination. Those dreams never went well for him, most of the time he felt like he was running in slow motion even if everything around him moved at a normal pace. It was almost like being submerged in water an fighting the current. At first it was: escape the asylum, then it was escape with Eddie, once out of the asylum get to Leadville. Now it was just another hurdle after he'd relaxed; even after the sleep he'd had the night before he felt like he just wanted to crawl back into bed again.  
“Waylon, look.” Eddie repeatedly tapped on his shoulder, his other hand pointing to the other end of the cul de sac. Sure enough there were militia jeeps rolling past. Waylon's eyes widened as he watched them carry on, a seemingly endless line of vehicles heading up the main street to get to the Asylum. “They're either looking for us or they're going to do a final sweep up there.”  
“Why can't this be simple..” Waylon whimpered, resting his head against the steering wheel. “It's just three hours to Boulder..”  
“Stick to back routes, they might have men posted along the road.”  
“Or they might not?”  
“Who's been on the run before? It's better to err on the side of caution.” Eddie paused, realising that his temper was beginning to flare up once again. Waylon wasn't being obtuse for the sake of it, he was tired of running. He wasn't built for this kind of thing. The man took a breath and fished out the map the kind gent at the store had given them. He could just about pin point where they were. “I know you want to get there quickly. We'll find another motel, we'll get an internet connection and you can try and get in contact with Lisa. Then we can plan it from there, okay?”  
Waylon nodded weakly, rubbing his face once more. He didn't want to cry, but it was getting to the point where he knew he needed to sit down and get it over with. He blinked away the bleariness and started the engine, setting his jaw the same way Eddie did. He didn't say another word in the fear that his voice would break, as soon as his voice broke it signalled in the tears to start falling. It was always the way it went.  
“There's a motel on the outskirts of town, but, it's probably for the best we get away from the mountain. There's one an hour away?” Waylon nodded and pulled out of the drive. As tempting as it was to just floor it, he knew it'd draw attention to them; not that Eddie's face wasn't doing that enough for them. At least, he knew how to play it off. “Do you have a phone?”  
“No, there's one in the car.” Short sharp answers.  
“Why not call Lisa?”  
“I can't remember her number off the top of my head.” He sniffed, hocking back the snot that was threatening to leak. He wiped his nose on his forearm and shook his head. “It's fine. I'm fine.”  
Neither of them really believed it, but Eddie gave his shoulder another little squeeze and turned the radio on. Words of comfort weren't his strength, he could be practical and lay out in plain terms why Waylon was being ridiculous. He only knew how to invalidate through practicality, but that had never helped him, not really in the long run. Anger became loneliness and loneliness soon became being busy. Being in the asylum had been hell, probably for the both of him in their own little coping methods. It made them face their issues and they were exploited, Eddie coped by remaining in perpetual motion. If he stopped everything would catch up with him, suffocate him with implications and thoughts he'd long since learned to belittle back into their box. Waylon was good at running too, whether he realised it or not, but Lisa had probably been the pillar of strength he needed. He had the means to express himself, she probably encouraged him which was why he was more.. in touch with his feelings than he was. But if he was allowed to fester, the thoughts not kept in check then they'd devour him alive.  
_“Oh dear, you think you can talk yourself out of this one?”_ Eddie glanced up and caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror. He was looking at himself, but he was smirking. _Ah. The Groom_. He shouldn't have been hallucinating right? The medication was supposed to stop that. And yet here he was.  
_“I'm going to try. He's married and needs his wife. We've only known each other for two days, I'm not in love with him. You just think we are.”_  
“There's many different forms of love. The Greeks had four different terms. Agape, selfless and unconditional love. Eros, sexual passion, an intimate attraction. Philia, the dispassionate love that is shared between friends and equals. And then there's Storge, supposedly the love a parent has for their child innately, but it's really more about tolerance. Loving the tyrant as they say. Good luck discerning which one you're suffering.”  
Eddie exhaled slowly, tearing his eyes away from the rearview mirror, though it didn't matter how much he avoided looking there, he could still see the flicker of the hallucination out of the corner of his eye. The Groom as mocking as he was, was right, Storge was probably what Waylon felt if anything. Desperately trying to survive, even if that meant giving him what he wanted. But.. just how easy would it have been to reach over and kiss him. Would he have even put up any fight? Eddie winced and turned the radio up louder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When you say you love me  
> When you say you love me  
> (I'm scared)  
> Are we ever gonna be okay?  
> When you say you love me  
> (I'm scared)  
> Are we ever really gonna feel safe?  
> When you say you love me  
> (I'm scared)  
> Is there something I can say?  
> When you say you love me  
> (I'm scared)  
> Is it better if I walk away?  
> When you say you love me?
> 
> Cause I'm scared  
> To be on our own  
> And I'm scared  
> Thinking what we've done  
> Baby can you keep your promise?  
> Baby can I keep you honest?  
> Cause I'm scared."  
> Delta Rae - Scared
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	15. Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon and Eddie finally get in contact with Viral Leaks, The Groom reasserts himself and a deal is made that he intends to cash in on as soon as they're done; knowing full well how to push Waylon's buttons into getting what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm your Opheliac  
> I've been so disillusioned  
> I know you'd take me back  
> But still I feigned confusion  
> I couldn't be your friend  
> My world was too unstable  
> You might have seen the end
> 
> But you were never able  
> To keep me breathing  
> As the water rises up again  
> Before I slip away"

Waylon had gradually become less tense as the drive carried on, the further out of town they got the less hunched he seemed. Sleep had been very tempting for Eddie, even if the Groom had sulked and left the room the night before, he hadn't actually slept since Waylon woke them both up. His blood had been singing. If they were back at the asylum, the Groom would have probably dragged him back to his section of hell and strung him up for his insolence. _She should get what she deserves. They all should._ The only thing that had calmed him down was trying to convince himself that Murkoff was a much better target for his rage than the anxiety-riddled twig in the next room. Though that perhaps wasn't a fair analysis of Waylon. He did little things, hunched slightly, wore oversized clothing, just little things to make himself seem smaller. He didn't like drawing attention to himself, that much was apparent. But he packed a punch when he wanted to, the brief flash of Waylon punching Blaire square in the jaw replayed in his mind's eye and couldn't help but feel a little warmth of pride. It was just a shame that it took that much to get that part of Waylon out of him. He needed direction and Eddie was more than happy to dictate it, but he could only wonder just how long he'd keep listening to him. Keep him on side and gently direct when he needed it. In retrospect, it sounded awful. Waylon wasn't there for him to control, he wasn't _his_. The man winced and rubbed at his temple. He'd always had intrusive thoughts but since being around Waylon, it'd gotten notably worse. Although perhaps it wasn't a fair judgement to make, all things considered, he didn't have a personality that'd manifested itself as all his trauma into one neat polite little ball of rage before he'd met Waylon. The Groom was indeed an unnecessary complication, but so was being neurodivergent. Waylon was going to have to cope.

“When we get to the motel, we should probably find a pay phone.” Eddie's head lolled so he could look at Waylon. He couldn't help but marvel at his beautifully delicate fingers. Once upon a time maybe he could have had him sat in front of a piano in his parents' farmhouse if things could have gone differently. Would the two of them have even met if it weren't for the years of trauma? His head felt hazy once more. Perhaps it was linked to being near the Asylum, the further they got from it the more The Groom protested and intruded. He decided that gauging just how beautiful he found Waylon was perhaps a safer way of determining when he should have taken his medication.  
“We're going to get in touch with Lisa aren't we?” Waylon shifted glancing at Eddie out of the corner of his eye.  
“If Murkoff are sending their militia out then they'll soon realise that we're not there. There was also the security cameras.” Waylon blanched somewhat, he'd totally forgotten about the security room. It'd been right there by the door. He could have taken tapes, but he'd forgotten. There hadn't been enough time, not combined with dodging the second wave of militia, Blaire _and_ Walker. “Calm down, because that footage will also be incriminating for them, when you think about it. They're not going to be in a rush to out those tapes until they've edited them. So...” Eddie glanced at the laptop bag on the backseat. “We should make our move first. Miles said to get in touch with... Francis right?”  
“Peter? I think was his name?”  
“Lord knows where I got Francis from.. Point stands. We need to get in touch with Viral Leaks, like Miles said. It'll keep us safe as insurance. If we disappear _after_ that footage goes out, it'll incriminate them further.”  
“But a company like that, who has been doing what they have been for as long as they have without any push back says a bit doesn't it?” Waylon's brows dipped. “After all, look at what they did to me. Barely anyone but my wife realised. I didn't hear anything from my parents or my friends... They all probably thought I finally cracked. It's. They use respectability politics, they discredit people who aren't rich white businessmen. A Vietnamese-American, with anxiety and with a history of activism, isn't going to have a leg to stand on. I'd be seen as a loose canon.”  
“And yet you still sent that message out to Miles.”  
“That was before I knew what they were capable of doing.” Waylon caught a glimpse of the landmark Eddie had mentioned and pulled into the slip road. “I just.. Once bitten, you know?”  
“So saving your skin is more important than keeping your promise to Miles?”  
“Don't, Eddie.” Eddie sucked on his teeth and twisted himself so he was facing Waylon.  
“Even if we do get to your wife, it's not going to be a safe space. We'll be putting your family in danger. You heard what that woman was saying, because she was kicking up a stink about your incarceration they were giving her trouble. She is on their radar and so are you. They will come up with some bullshit excuse to drag you back to their next facility. We have to get this out now whilst they don't know where we are.” The man leant back and settled in his seat once more. “I'm sorry, I'm used to planning ahead. I was thinking about this all last night.”  
“Fine. We'll get in touch with Peter, okay?”

The motel was a distinctive step up from the wilderness that'd surrounded the cabin. As pleasant as it had been, there were telephone poles dotted along the road, enough to give Waylon hope that there would indeed be a connection. If he hadn't been so focused on paying for the room for the night then he might have kissed the guy stood behind the counter when he said there was indeed an internet connection. His first port of call would be a skype call with Lisa and then they'd get in touch with Peter.  
All the while Waylon was setting up his modest laptop and router, Eddie disappeared out to grab something for them to eat. The restaurant at the motel was simple, but it was indeed pleasant and all cooked to order. It made him think of the meals his mother used to cook way back, but again the thought was pushed aside. He sat at the table, slowly working his way through it, but Waylon was sat at the desk, plugging cables in, fork hanging from his mouth as he went; only stopping for a mouthful when he'd finished one round of cables and logging in. It seemed like a reward system he was operating on. Eddie sighed and settled himself on the couch for a nap. He couldn't really drift off, his sleep was permeated by the sound of Waylon's voice, what he assumed was Lisa's voice and the sound of two young boys. Part of him wanted to tell him to be quiet and let him sleep, but he put that down to just how tired he actually was. Though despite how much evidence mounted that Lisa, Max and Benji were actually part of Waylon's lives, The Groom didn't seem to care. If anything, he seemed to take it as a challenge. _What can I offer him that his family can't? Be happy with your actual life or some live a life on the run if you want something wild._ He rolled on his back and opened his eyes, the light outside was gone and it was pitch black outside. Part of him was convinced he could hear the muffled sound of gunshots but Waylon hadn't come to wake him up, perhaps it was just the sound of his pulse thrumming in his head.  
“Wait, your name is Julian?” Eddie blinked the sleep from his eyes and gently eased himself up. “Miles told me it was Peter... I'm sorry, there must have been a miscommunication.... Yes. Yes, I'm a survivor of Mount Massive, I used to work for Murkoff... Yeah... Yeah, I've got some files, Miles said you'd be interested in having... I'm still in Colorado, I'm trying to get back to Boulder... No I don't trust sending them, Murkoff managed to get past my onion router and Tor, I don't trust them to not monitor me.” Waylon looked actively distressed, curling the phone's cord around his fingers and squeezing the coils; his knuckles were white. “You can come here? How soon? They've just gone to the Asylum today again...Shit, that's lucky... Okay, we can drive there.”  
The engineer put the phone down, a slight nervous glow about him. He was smiling nonetheless, although Eddie was fairly sure the whites of his eyes were red. His sight wasn't what it used to be since the blood vessels blew in his right eye, probably trauma based, he'd heard of temporary blindness induced in people who'd hit their head too hard. He cocked his head, waiting for Waylon to enlighten him. “So?”  
“They were in town. When Miles contacted them about it, they said they'd make sure to be in the state to get the information directly. He was right, with a company like Murkoff they've probably got people monitoring the deep web, best to kick it old school in an exchange.”  
“So, you're going to hand the memory cards over to them?”  
“...Well, I was going to take a few things out..” Eddie raised his brows and folded his arms. “The world does not need to see me in a wedding dress-”  
“I think what Murkoff was doing and the direct result of that is more important than you being embarrassed. If anything, it shows them more what everything was like.”  
Waylon winced. He knew Eddie was right, but he also really, really didn't want the world to have access to him in a dress.  
“Give them my file.” Part of him was screaming, knowing that this was his trump card gone. His means of disappearing would go up in smoke.  
“What?”  
“Don't give them photographs, but the written file. It's like you said, my file is pretty much public record. You want something that will be the nail in the coffin for Murkoff then submit it. There's doctors' signatures, signatures of the higher ups approving the methods and treatments. I'm pretty sure Blaire left a note in there too.”  
“Eddie, you can't. If your details go public then it's going to make this difficult.”  
“You don't have to tell them that file is _mine_.”  
“I'll think about it, but we need to get to the meeting point. It's an office building on the outskirts of Leadville, won't take us long to get there.”

 

For the entire drive, Eddie felt like his head was swimming. He wasn't exactly sure what had possessed him to tell Waylon to use his file, perhaps a gesture to comfort him. There were times when The Groom warped outside the parameters that he'd established for himself when he was in the Asylum. But then again, all he really knew was what Waylon had shown him on the video camera. This was one of those moments. For someone that lived in the realm of illusion, that nothing bad had happened with his family and his mother had just been the one to take care of everything and he inherited the family fortune after 'mama and papa' died of old age, he was disturbingly aware. Then again this was assuming that this vision of himself he was even seeing was in actual fact The Groom.  
_Do not give them the file. You can change your mind. They'll take you away. They'll give you back to Murkoff._ He wasn't even sure if whatever was talking to him was even moving its lips. He could see the mountain side getting closer as they got closer to Leadville and he felt his stomach lurch, the dull static humming was back and it felt awful. At one point he could have passed it off as tinnitus, but it was almost deafening. It felt like too many people were talking at once. The car was too hot despite the air conditioning not being on. Waylon sounded like he was breathing right in his ear. What if he was going to hand him over to them too? If he ditched him then life would, of course, be a lot simpler for him, after all, he'd used him just to get out of the asylum. His mouth felt dry even though he'd been glued to a bottle of water for most of the day. Was this an effect of the medication?  
“Eddie, are you alright?” Waylon glanced at the other, taking note of just how pale he looked. “Was the food bad?”  
“I don't want you to give them my file. You're right. It'll be too complicated for us.” He looked back at Waylon and squinted as his mind made his features soften, the now blatant stubble that peppered his jaw was nowhere to be seen. Eddie shook his head and winced. “You know, darling, it'd be best if I just stay in the car.”  
“...Eddie, don't do this to me now. Did you take your meds?”  
“They make me sick. I'm tired but I can't sleep. Darling, don't make me keep taking them, please.” He leant over and grabbed at Waylon's upper arm, nuzzling into his shoulder. The corners of his eyes were damp, lord only knew what he was seeing. “Please, I promise I'll be good to you, darling. Don't leave me there. Don't take me back there, not without you. I couldn't stand it without you at my side.”  
“Eddie, I can't- shit- Eddie, I can't drive with you doing this-” Waylon had really hoped he'd left this behind at Mt. Massive.  
“It's such a shame the chapel burned.. it would have been so beautiful...” He sighed whistfully, completely ignoring Waylon's protests. “You looked stunning in that dress.. If only you'd kept it, we could have given it to our daughter when she grew up.”  
“Eddie!” Waylon snapped, shrugging The Groom from his arm and gritting his teeth at him. “Damnnit, I know you can't help this, but--” The Groom's eyes widened as if there was a dawning realisation of where he was. “We won't give them your file, alright? It's yours and you can do with it what you want, but if you're going to be coming with me, you _have_ to behave.”  
That somewhat distant look in his eyes shifted to that predatory narrow glare, his eyes darting around his features; christ, he was sizing him up. He'd had enough of that in the Asylum, he didn't need this now. Shit and he'd been so good. Looks like the meds didn't really help him at all. Had he been panicking? That's what made the Groom appear wasn't it? A trauma-based reaction.  
“Dragging me around, what am I to you? Am I your attack dog? Am I your protection? Am I your love? Or am I the Storge?” The hell even was a Storge? Waylon winced, noticing the turn off for the office building. It had a large to let sign in one of the windows, a dull light coming from behind it. They were in there alright. Having to bounce his attention from the road to Eddie was a pain in the ass, normally he had Lisa to keep the boys in check when they got rowdy, but not like this. “I'd do anything for you. I'd kill them for you if it'd make you happy. Cleanse them and punish them for ever laying a finger on you. Such a delicate thing like you should never have been there.”  
His hands were on him again and Waylon bit down on his lip as he accelerated into the parking space. He had to get the car stationary before he could even begin to deal with this mess. His gaze was distant but very much focused on him. Was there every possibility that he was reliving something?  
“Eddie- Eddie. _Eddie_.” He uttered sternly, taking a firm but gentle hold on his wrists. “Eddie. This is not the time for this. I know, we need to talk about this. We left it badly last night, but we've got this to deal with first,” He gestured with his head to the file on the backseat. “When we're back, I will happily work this out with you, I promise. But we're expected, okay?”  
“Why don't you want to talk about this?”  
“Because it's complicated and I need to handle things one step at a time. _Please_. Just let me get through this and we can talk.” Waylon had to stop himself from jerking away from his hand as The Groom cupped his face, he stopped looking mournful and there was that predatory amusement. Had he been winding him up all for the sake of getting a rise out of him? And he played right into his hands.  
“Of course, darling.”

Of all the times The Groom had to come forward, it would have been easier if Eddie was lucid and able to talk them through it, had he wanted to. But, something told him that the reason he wasn't present was because he had no intention of talking about it yet. It was a defensive reaction, so The Groom had scared him in the car into keeping the file. Part of him was furious and another was incredibly aware of how lucky he was to walk away from that with only a little bit of trauma.  
The office wasn't well lit, but there was computing equipment littered around and a few men and women talking. One woman had a pair of binoculars and a telescope, next to her was a pile of maps, one of the mountain and the other of the Asylum. The man sat next to her was fairly short in stature and choppy bleached hair and looked a little more fragile than the typical male. One of the men had his hair pulled back into a ponytail that reached his lower back. The one to meet them however had a familiar voice, Australian and fairly friendly. He shook Waylon's hand and did the same to Eddie, even despite the scarring.  
“I'm not going to lie to you, this is going to make your lives difficult. But you'll be doing the world a great favour by bringing this to their attention. It'll hit Murkoff where it hurts, you may even get something like justice. But you'll be under fire potentially for the rest of your lives.” Julian gestured to the computer and let Waylon get settled. The Groom remained quiet, arms folded over his chest and regarding the room with distrust. “We're not going to pressure you into this, we know how important of a decision this is.”  
“Murkoff have taken over the Asylum we think... We saw their militia trucks heading up there about mid-day.” Waylon grimaced, pulling out a memory stick and sloting it into the port. “We need to get this out there sooner than later. I'm sorry Miles couldn't be here.”  
“Crazy bastard's always gone for the guns blazing approach. I'm not surprised that he stayed behind, just hope he hasn't bitten off more than he can chew.” The woman at the telescope scoffed. “But, he always comes through.”  
“He gave me his data, I haven't gone through it, but the footage is.. it's all there. Nothing's been taken out.”  
“Do you want to go through it with us? Ideally we want as much made public as possible, but if you want to keep something back, it's a fair trade off.”  
“What about if we have something we want to give you later?” The Groom cocked his head, pausing for a moment as the blonde man handed him a cup of coffee.  
“The upload might take a while, not the best signal around here.” The man spoke and The Groom found himself unable to decide whether they were in fact male or female. He nodded and took a hefty swig.  
“You've got our number.” Julian shrugged, pushing the laptop back to Waylon once more. “If you do have anything else to offer us, then you know where we are. It'd be easier if you did it all now, you know how lawyers can be, if you don't hand it all over in one go they get suspicious.”  
Waylon nodded, casting a brief glance over his shoulder at Eddie. Part of him wanted to ask if they were aware of who exactly Eddie was, part of him wondered if they even cared. But The Groom seemed more than content to get comfortable with the two by the telescope.  
“You don't seem all that worried about your family.” Julian took a sip of his own drink. For an organisation like Viral Leaks, they seemed like a bunch of casual young adults rather than businessmen and women who'd grown tired of the status quo.  
“Lisa's capable of taking care of herself, she knows her stuff about law. I doubt they'd be able to touch her.”  
“They found a way with you.”  
“I was stupid and impulsive, Lisa's smarter than that.”  
“We can't offer any protection for you or your families. If we could we would, but we have to remain impartial. We're getting thr truth out. If anything did happen to you, we would get word out, though. That much we can offer.”  
“I suppose that's _something_.” The Groom huffed under his breath, his focus now well and truly on the telescope. “How long is that upload going to take?”  
“It could take between ten minutes and two hours.” The man with the ponytail looked up from his screen and squinted at the sihouettes of The Groom and the two on lookout duty. “Why, is there activity?”  
“I thought I heard gunshots earlier... They're going through there and clearing out the Variants stranded there.” The Groom looked up and handed the telescope back to the woman who'd been sat there previously. “Myself and Waylon barely made it out in the first place. That's the third group they've sent in there to take out the survivors.”  
“..What did they do in there to you?”  
“The tapes will tell you all. I don't particularly want to talk about it, if it's all the same to you, dear. But they created a monster in there, now they're suffering to contain it. _Good_.”  
“I hope Miles is alright.” Waylon bit the crook of his index finger.  
“With the way he is now, I'm sure they'll give him a run for their money.”  
“What happened to Miles?” The man with the blonde hair looked up to Eddie.  
“He turned their weapon against them. He'll be more than fine.” It was the same assurances that The Groom had given Waylon to keep him from turning back. Though The Groom had to wonder if Waylon would have made such a fuss if he'd been left there.  
  
They mostly sat in silence, the most conversation that was exchanged was between the two at the telescope or the man with the long hair giving Julian updates from the connection. It was either that or Eddie had zoned out for much longer than he realised and Waylon was looking at him, his finger hovering over the enter key. The Groom gave a small sharp nod and the file was uploaded. Over the span of ten minutes, there were updates flooding their system, people commenting, people sharing and tweeting the link. Julian shook their hands once more and told them it would be best if they left, Murkoff's militia could have been redirected to Leadville once again at any time. _You'll be safe in town for perhaps one more night, leave the minute dawn breaks._  
The Groom seemed to keep his distance on the drive back to the motel, but he didn't stop looking at Waylon with that wistful longing. It made Waylon shudder, his skin crawled at the thought. Why was it bearable when Eddie was lucid? Was he demonising The Groom, or was he just being sensible?  
“You realise you're going to be stuck with me for a while, darling?”  
“I know. I could have worse.”  
“Charmer.”  
Waylon smirked, and then there was that look in The Groom's eyes and he suddenly wonder exactly just what he'd taken that as. _..He doesn't think I'm all for being his bride again does he?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You know the games I play  
> And the words I say  
> When I want my own way  
> You know the lies I tell  
> When you've gone through hell  
> And I say I can't stay  
> You know how hard it can be  
> To keep believing in me  
> When everything and everyone  
> Becomes my enemy and when  
> There's nothing more you can do  
> I'm gonna blame it on you  
> It's not the way I want to be  
> I only hope that in the end you will see  
> It's the Opheliac in me  
> It's the Opheliac in me"  
> Opheliac - Emilie Autumn
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	16. Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Groom goes to show his thanks to Waylon for not giving Viral Leaks his file, but it doesn't go exactly how either expected it to. A moment's encounter reveals things Eddie has been trying to work out for years and leads to him attempting to draw a line in the sand between them. Waylon however is suffering something of a crisis of faith at the hands of the latest realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains references to dub-con, rape, assault and abuse
> 
> "Like a dream I had in subconscious deep  
> Here you come again only in my sleep  
> And I remember you  
> I remember you
> 
> Like a memory of a time gone by  
> Many things I've seen still I can't deny  
> That I remember you  
> Yes I remember the things you do to me
> 
> When you say my name  
> When you hold my hand  
> When you whisper in my ear the things  
> That only you could understand  
> When you say my name  
> When you hold my hand  
> When you touch me softly in the way  
> That only you can do  
> I remember you  
> I remember you"

There was an element of familiarity to the drive back to the motel. He glanced at his darling, a slight glimmer of pride seeping through him; she was indeed strong even if she didn't realise it. She hadn't betrayed him, she wouldn't surrender him to anyone else. How did he get this lucky? It was a powerful blow they'd dealt Murkoff but indeed not without repercussions, they'd be angry and seeking revenge. He'd be there, stare them down and tear them to pieces if needs be. How could Waylon say that she didn't care for him? After everything, she must have just been playing hard to get. When The Groom glanced at her there wasn't something quite right, after all, he was sure that she had short choppy blonde hair. It was just an impression he was getting, the glimmer of something long forgotten. Long soft reddish brown hair and striking hazel eyes, lacquered nails that were slick and the colour of the creek in the heat of the storm. The Groom shook his head and forced the notion from the front of his mind but his chest hurt at the thought, all he could think of was how much blood there was, the confusion and hurt. Who'd done this? It'd been perfect. She was perfect. She'd been so kind-  
“We'd better get some rest when we get back, especially if we've got to be on the road first thing.” She must have been speaking to break the ice. He blinked at the clock, somehow he'd lost the past half an hour and the motel was just creeping into sight. It wasn't as though time escaping him was something he wasn't used to. He hummed lowly, not quite committing to the notion, but she had a point.

Waylon put the Jeep to park, his hands were just trembling still from the panic shooting through him. It would take Murkoff a while to get through the city and to find them, they had time, Julian had assured them. It wasn't like the man was an all knowing entity, but he still took comfort in his assurances. Had they been working with the townsfolk? After all, he doubted that they'd take too kindly to finding out just what had been going on up at the facility. Eddie had been looking a little dazed since they left, his eyes darting around like he was seeing something that wasn't visible to him. He knew the man had a habit of recoiling back into himself after an outburst, but that was perhaps.. a little more raw of an outburst that he'd ever seen, A small part of him still nagged that Eddie was just pulling his leg and backing him into the corner he wanted him in, but when he was lucid and the medication worked he knew he felt safe. There was too much misery in him. Misery loves company and all, he thought to himself as he turned the engine off. As he pulled the key out and went to grab his bag he felt Eddie's hand clamp around his upper arm. Waylon wasn't sure whether his heart had stopped or if it was beating so fast he couldn't feel it anymore. He needed to keep control of the situation, but the sound of the coyotes howling further up the mountain ridge only served to remind him that he was dealing with an apex predator, completely and utterly outmatched by comparison. Not to mention the drastic differences of strength between Eddie and The Groom. Eddie was a heavy hitter, for sure, but there was something entirely different in the way The Groom fought, how effortlessly he could slaughter and hoist a man up by his throat without even trying. Even if the man gripping his arm was smiling at him it did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.  
“Darling, what's wrong, did I startle you?” He sounded so syrupy, but that iron grip on his arm was betraying his tone.  
“A little yeah,” Waylon replied gently, reminding himself that sudden moves were a no no. “You're grabbing me a bit.. tight. What's wrong?”  
“I want to thank you, for being so good to me.” He moved closer and Waylon could feel the warmth of his breath inches from his face. “You could have..”  
“Can you thank me when we're inside? It's probably best we're not out here for too long.”  
“..Darling I'm _trying_ to express myself.” It looked like there wasn't going to be a delicate way of saying not now. The Groom of course, had no concept of handling rejection with grace and dignity. Waylon forced a smile, and just about managed to grab the laptop bag off the back seat. Though from the look The Groom gave him, he didn't like it. “Waylon, darling, you know how hard it is for me to speak my mind. I'm trying to open up to you and you're more concerned with that.”  
“Eddie, it's a little cramped in here, there's more space in the room.”  
“Live on the edge a little.” He purred in Waylon's ear. Waylon concluded that it was, in actual fact, his blood running cold he'd felt before because he could hear his pulse loud and clear. _I've been living on the edge 'a little' since I met you, Gluskin._  
There was a moment before The Groom squeezed his arm just hard enough to make him drop the bag and dragged him closer. The gear stick and brake got somewhat in the way as he found himself pulled onto The Groom's lap; the man's hands firmly clasped at his hips. His motions were more refined and concentrated than the last time he'd tried to force himself on him. He lightly nipped at his neck, his left hand seeking solace under his shirt and soothing up his back. Waylon shuddered, expecting Eddie's hands to be cold but they were always warm and rough, just lightly scratching at his skin from the callouses.  
“Eddie-” He huffed, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “What if someone sees us-”  
“Then they'll just have to be jealous of how lucky I am to have you.”  
Again with that lilt. It wasn't quite like the Groom or anything he'd heard from Eddie, it was too... He couldn't put his finger on it in time for his brain to screech to a halt when The Groom pressed their lips together. It wasn't the sloppy kiss it had been in the Asylum, there was a restrained fire behind it. Whether it was a moment of weakness at just how long it'd been since he'd felt the enamoured touch of another or Waylon finding himself forgetting his goal, but he gave in. All he could hear was Eddie warning him to establish boundaries, to not give The Groom what he wanted, but it didn't _feel_ like the Groom. Had he just unearthed _another_ personality in there, if he had then he knew he shouldn't have been taking advantage of him, but Eddie had started it after all. It was piss-poor reasoning, but the way he was handling him was making his blood sing loud enough to drown out his better judgement. His breath hitched as he shifted his leg, he felt like a teenager all over again. Creeping around to find the best place away from prying eyes to get the chance to grind against each other. He could feel the insistent warmth of Eddie beneath him, lightly brushing him as they shifted with each kiss encouraging his own erection to life. His head swam with images and ideas of what Eddie could do to him curiosity he'd never given much thought to insisting at finally being given some attention. Just how strong his hands were, how solid he felt to the touch. He could break him without a second thought, but the danger just seemed to make it feel even better. He wanted Eddie to devour him, to push him to his limits. Eddie's right hand slipped into his back pocket and gently squeezed, tearing a small whine from the engineer. He just wanted to grind against him, taste him, feel him. His erection strained against the confines of his jeans and even if the idea of coming in his underwear seemed like something a hormonal teen would do, the option seemed incredibly appealing. He shifted his hips and revelled in the spark that shot through him as their groins rubbed together; through his lidded eyes he managed to get a glimpse of Eddie's head rolling back against the seat's head rest. He was rewarded with a sharp jut that rubbed from his erection to his perinium. Waylon's fingers dug into Eddie's shoulders, a small whimper escaping him once more as he ground down against the warmth. The hand that was teasing him through his jeans pocket found its way down the back of his jeans and boxers, searching insistently as it went. Where The Groom was expecting to find a vulva, he instead found Waylon's perinium; the engineer buried his face into Eddie's shoulder, rutting harder against the pressure, tiny gasps and broken noises uttered like a mantra. He'd wanted to drive his darling wild, press his index finger deep inside her whilst he teased her clit, drinking in every single broken cry she offered him. He'd wished he'd never reached further forward. Their lips connected again, Waylon's whimpering now a constant, louder than the dull creak of the suspension under their desperate rutting. Eddie's index and middle finger reached out, searching for the clit, instead, they found something else; Waylon's tensed sac.

  
From then on everything felt like it screeched to a halt. Bile threatened to crawl up the back of his throat, The Groom was filled with rage all the while the husk of Eddie Gluskin could only think of the nightmare he'd left behind in his childhood. The sensations started to feel familiar, it wasn't like that night with Lani in the car just outside his place. It wasn't what it should have been. His mind twisted it. It was neither the comfort of Waylon he was experiencing either. The suppressed echos of his father howling at him whilst his uncle drooled like a crazed feral beast were suddenly all too vibrant and real. He knew he was in the car, but his mind wouldn't accept it. He was tied up in the barn, beaten and ready for whatever sick punishment they could think of for him for a pathetic excuse.  
Waylon felt the tears first. Eddie's hand swiftly removed itself from his jeans and the other opened the passenger side door. He bucked and flailed wildly, throwing Waylon from his straddled position in the car and out onto the dirt of the parking spot next to them. Waylon's head swam, he'd been so close to release but now he was just sore, he was sure he'd hit his head which would explain why everything sounded like it was underwater. Through he haze he looked up and saw Eddie struggling to find the key for the room. He stared down at him, wide eyed, jaw tensed. Part of him wondered if this was finally it, this would be the way Eddie killed him. Instead, his expression warped and cracked, the tension dissolving as he curled up on himself and bawled. He was making a lot of noise, raking his hands through his hair, struggling to breathe steadily. Waylon looked around as he slowly pulled himself back to his feet and hoist his jeans back to where they should have been resting. He used the car as support; lights in the motel turning on as other patrons were being disturbed. Adrenaline and sense kicked in, putting his hand up to Eddie's shoulder. It was immediately slapped away.  
“Don't fucking touch me.” He growled, showing his teeth.  
“Eddie- Eddie I'm sorry, I'm sorry- you've got to calm down.” Waylon exhaled shakily, still very aware of the weight humming between his legs. “You're going to wake people up-”  
“You're just like them! Filthy fucking-” Eddie sobbed. “Don't touch me again. Stay the fuck away.”  
“No, Eddie I'm not, I promise. It's okay. I won't touch you, we need to get inside.”  
“I'm not going anywhere with you-”  
“Eddie. It's _me_. It's me, Waylon.” He exhaled heavily, wincing as he saw someone peer out of their window and Waylon quickly gestured to taking a drink from a bottle and shook his head. He mouthed sorry, watching the woman's nose wrinkle and slam the window shut, pulling the blinds to sharply. “You're okay. You're fine, I promise.”  
“I panicked--” He didn't sound so terrified anymore. Instead he cried heavily, repeating a name under his breath that Waylon couldn't make out. “Shit, shit, shit--”  
“We need to get inside Eddie, we'll be fine there, I promise. We'll get you in from the cold.”  
“I need the air.” Eddie growled. The man looked at the car and tensed once more, he didn't stay put, despite his protests of following Waylon. The man unfurled, wiping his face and hauled himself from the jeep, barging past the engineer and broke into a sprint.  
“Oh.. no, no, no, don't do that-” Waylon wanted to cry himself, so stunned and confused at what had exactly just happened. Of course, he'd freak out if they tried to.. go further. Eddie didn't exactly have fond memories of male genitalia. “Eddie!”

  
Waylon closed the passenger door and locked the jeep, trying his best to keep up with the man. His ankle burned as he put too much pressure on it, Eddie had changed the dressing just after dinner, but really he shouldn't have been putting so much weight on it. Not that Eddie was really giving him a choice in the matter.  
At the edge of the motel were the remnants of what had probably been a horse ranch, the wooden beams of the pens still somewhat intact. The ranch hadn't been occupied for probably decades, the way the main house looked; front door off its hinges, broken windows... To find Eddie all he had to do was follow the sound of laboured breathing and crying. His stomach lurched, knowing full well that he'd brought this on. He should have established the boundaries and not been so weak. They were supposed to be seeing Lisa in a day or two. _Way to be a selfish asshole, Waylon._  
He found him hunched up in one of the stables, his crying had quietened down, still punctuated his erratic breathing, cursing under his breath and sniffing back mucus. There were holes in the roof of the dilapidated building that gave just enough light for Waylon to see him. He was still flushed though that could have been because of anything.  
“Eddie-”  
“I told you to establish boundaries with him, _Waylon_. Not leap at the chance to- shit.” The scabbing had been irritated, small lines of blood were tracing the contours of the ridges of his blisters. Was he picking at the scabs or had the crying just put a strain on them? “You've got a wife and children don't you?!”  
Waylon shifted, wincing under the accusation. He was right.  
“I'm sorry... I didn't know what to do. The Groom was so adamant and I panicked too.”  
“So you thought you'd take advantage of the situation? He's fucking crazy, of course he won't mind-”  
“That's not what it was at all, Eddie.” Waylon snapped. Eddie jolted at the change in tone, eyes widening and regarding him cautiously. Waylon let out a small whine and crouched in front of him. “Shit.. Look, I know I messed up, I shouldn't have, I know I shouldn't. It was a moment of weakness. I'm not trying to take advantage of anyone, especially not you. I know when you're like that you can't tell me what you really want... Jesus, there's no good way of saying this at all is there?”  
Eddie wiped his nose on the back of his arm, his breathing steadying. “This situation is complicated enough without you.. humouring The Groom.”  
“I wasn't and that's what makes it worse. At first, I wasn't sure but..”  
“No. Don't you start.” He jolted forward and grabbed Waylon's face between his hands, grimacing and shook his head. “Don't you start giving that any thought. Leave it be. Don't think on it, it wasn't anything.”  
“Repressing this isn't going to make it go away.”

“You don't feel anything for me. You're confused and we're travelling together not seeing anyone else, it's just tension, nothing more.”  
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”  
“I'm not the one with everything to lose. You can't have me and your family, it doesn't work like that.”  
“I know I just-”  
“Enough. That's all there is to this. We're going to forget this happened, we're going to put it behind us and we're going to get you home.”  
“I can't take my family on the run.”  
“So, you're going to trade them in for me at least until this blows over?” Eddie let go of Waylon, his jaw tensing. “Classy, Waylon. Really classy.”  
For the second time that night Eddie pushed past him and headed back to the motel. He rubbed at his jaw and mouth, trying to will himself to forget that all he could taste was Waylon. It was nothing more than being stuck together for too long, it'd pass and once it was all over he'd fade back into obscurity, Waylon would move on and forget him. That was how it was supposed to go, this wasn't in the plan. No matter what it was that he wanted. No matter how much he hurt whenever he thought about what it'd be without him. Cut a piece of yourself off in order to grow, he'd done it before, he could do it again...  _Shit_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I would recognize your shadow in a crowded room  
> Change your name a million times, it wouldn't change my mind  
> Or what I hope to find in your heart underneath  
> In a new rhythm I breathe 'cause I remember you  
> I remember you  
> I remember you  
> I remember you  
> Yes I do
> 
> When you say my name  
> When you hold my hand  
> When you whisper in my ear the things  
> That only you could understand  
> When you say my name  
> When you hold my hand  
> When you touch me softly in the way  
> That only you can do"  
> Emilie Autumn - Remember  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	17. Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after is always filled with awkwardness, Waylon knows this for a fact. But how awkward can it get, especially when dealing with a failed attempt at romance.  
> A burst tyre causes Eddie to show a little more of himself to Waylon, more questions about Murkoff's intentions and experiments arises leaving Waylon wondering exactly what they were trying to accomplish with his companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I haven't really had a chance to sit down and write this chapter over the past month or so. It's been sat partially written staring at me but I've been missing a few plot bunnies up until now.
> 
> "You set the sun, I feel your waves  
> I look at the ocean, so big and brave  
> Am I only a ghost?  
> Cause what I fear the most is me  
> I left you on the coast for something only I can see
> 
> What kind of world will there be  
> When I wake up from this dream?  
> I hear you call so far away  
> Just keep me close when I'm afraid
> 
> And don't you give up on me  
> As I dive into the dark"

Waylon had another undisturbed night, but the accusing look that Eddie had given him before slamming the door shut to his room made his stomach knot and twist. He couldn't deny that he felt unfulfilled after their little encounter, but that wasn't the point at all. Eddie had felt used. Which really he had been in a way. He should have asked him if it was what he really wanted more, should have tested the boundaries. He was starting to wish he'd grabbed something to treat anxiety before he left the dispensary. It didn't matter how long he had his eyes closed for, his mind wouldn't silence, wouldn't stop churning over what he should or shouldn't have done; even worse, what would happen if Lisa found out? Conversations and possibilities of what he could say or do circled incessantly, what he thought would bring him comfort to plan only made it worse. Even if the lights weren't on and the blackout curtains were drawn, his eyes stung. The night before hadn't exactly been fantastic either, and yet here he was unable to sleep because his old nemesis insomnia decided to take a swing for him again. Waylon had to wonder if Eddie was able to sleep. He constantly looked tired the more he looked at him, the scars and blisters managed to hide it, for now, so after their little... encounter he couldn't have been the only one having a crisis of faith and consequentially being unable to sleep. Or maybe he didn't really care.

 

Light began to creep through the curtains and Waylon wasn't sure if he'd even managed to sleep or just spent the whole night staring at the ceiling. Eddie still didn't want to look at him for long, but it wasn't the same awkwardness from the previous morning; there was a cautiousness. He still spoke to him, although it was short closed sentences or questions. It was the kind of silence that you could only learn in an upper-class household. The kind of deafening silence which indicated issues that were 'uncomfortable' to address or to acknowledge would bring scandal to the family name. Perhaps his tiredness had shown, as soon as Waylon finished one cup of coffee, Eddie poured him out another. In theory, he could have asked Eddie to drive, and yet he didn't, nor did the man offer. He was starting to realise why Eddie was so inclined to listen to music, drown out the silences and let him focus on something else. But in the motel room they didn't have such a luxury, the radio was beyond use and looked as though it belonged in a technology museum. The only thing worse than the silence was the lingering questions that were left with no answer or even acknowledgement. Small talk wasn't an option.  
“Eddie, would you please talk to me?” Waylon gritted his teeth. He was tired, stressed and being hyper critical about every action he made, convinced that the man was judging everything he did. Was he just letting his guilt tear him apart? It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest. It'd save Eddie from having to even say anything.  
The man sucked on his teeth, gave him a brief glance and returned to packing his backpack. By the looks of it, he'd gone to the vending machine outside and stocked up on water and snacks for the road. He still believed in their goal.. maybe.

“Eddie.”  
“I meant what I said last night.” He zipped the pack up and dumped it on the coffee table by the door, actively avoiding Waylon's gaze.  
“We said a lot last night, you're going to have to be more precise.” _I've had a lot on my mind since, too._  
“Our conversation about boundaries. If we don't keep them in place, then we're going to lose sight of what we really need.” His tone was cold and clinical, like when he first showed himself. “You're doing this so you can be with your family. I'm just chasing revenge. Don't drag yourself down to my level. You're better than a lot of people I've known, I still don't know why you're helping me, but don't let your guilt twist... whatever bond we may share.”  
“I'm _sorry_.”  
“So you've said. And I believe you.”  
_Then why are you being so fucking obtuse about it?_ Waylon scratched his head, his scalp tingling at the thought. There was no arguing with the man when he was like this. He'd gone back into his blinkered survival mode, ushered himself back into that shell he used to protect himself. He really must have stepped over the line.  
“I didn't mean to take advantage of you-”  
“It was an accident, one on both our parts.”  
“Are we going to at least talk about this? Eddie if you've forgiven me, then why didn't you tell me? I couldn't sleep an ounce last night because I felt so awful.”  
“I haven't forgiven you yet.” His brows dipped, there was a sternness in his eyes as he regarded the engineer. “But that's for me to work through. All you need to do is keep your hands to yourself.”  
“Eddie-”  
“I don't want to talk about it.”  
“You never want to talk about anything, even if we need to.”  
“Perhaps Waylon, because you don't have the same issues that I do. I know we should, but there're complications that run alongside my reasoning. I need to think about it more.” Eddie's shoulders sagged as he ran his hand along the back of his neck. There was a dull pop as he stretched which made him wince. “You need to talk about your issues, that's how you deal with it. But understand that it's not the same for everyone else. Talking about feelings isn't something I've had the opportunity to do. You are lucky enough to have Lisa who you can confide in.”  
“You can confide in me, you've done it before.”  
“Last night rattled that trust.” Waylon glanced down at the dregs in his cup. He was right, he was the only person Eddie had been able to rely on, and he hurt him when he was vulnerable.  
“I'm sorry.”  
“Let me be, Waylon. When I'm ready I'll say something. This isn't one of those spots that you can just keep squeezing until it feels better.” He stretched again causing another pop, at least, this time, he didn't look quite so pained by it.

 

Going back to Leadville was out of the question, despite having checked out of the motel nearly half an hour prior, the two couldn't agree on a route to take to get to Boulder. Waylon argued that if they went via Denver there would be more people around and thus, Murkoff wouldn't dare to make such a move, Eddie however, was of the school of thought that they would have been within their rights to make a blockade and check cars going in. If they really wanted to catch them and stop the word getting out about the asylum, then they could easily explain to drivers they were searching for escaped patients. The back roads were safer.  
“Why are we making so many stops?” Waylon pointed to the map, jabbing at Eddie's knee in the process. “It's literally just over two hours if we go through Denver, better to go quickly and not stop.”  
“You said you didn't sleep, your concentration and judgement won't be as reliable. Besides, that's what they'll expect after how direct you were with Miles. They're looking for an opportunist, someone who'll want to be as quick as possible. They think we're erratic and won't be expecting patience.” Eddie gestured his ideal route on the map. It was admittedly more direct, but it wound through the mountains and thus took nearly three hours in one go.  
“I don't know whether I should be insulted or not. How do you even know this?”  
“I just do.”  
“You _just do_?”  
“The telescope last night didn't actually have a clear view of the Asylum, but I still knew that militia would be going past.” The two paused, Waylon clearly wanted to dispute it, but part of him wasn't sure he could be bothered to fight. “Besides, I don't know about you but I want a change of clothes, going to Idaho Springs will give us the chance to get some and retreat back into the mountains. We can throw them off if they are tracing the card. They'll be expecting us to take the main roads.”  
“So you want to trick them?”  
“Is that really a bad idea?”  
“No. I just don't know if they'll take the bait.” He started the engine despite his protests.

 

Every turning that Eddie sent him through took them back up along the mountain ranges, but upon seeing the roads, Waylon began to understand why he had him taking such a convoluted route. Every so often they'd come across another fork in the road, dirt tracks, routes to houses and cabins; if it wasn't for Eddie navigating with the map he'd have found himself lost very quickly. Part of him allowed himself a moment to think about when Eddie was on the run, how long had it taken them to find him? Had he been the prey of a nationwide manhunt, or had he learned from his mistakes, after all, he had to have been caught to wind up in Mt. Massive. Though, he had to wonder if he felt some sort of odd comfort from sticking to routes that looked like the road to the Asylum, did it remind him that he was getting further away or did it just remind him of it. Something of a Stockholm syndrome for a place, a twisted sense of safety and familiarity you couldn't break away from. Giving Eddie the map was good in some other ways too, it meant he was talking to him. Utter silence would have meant there was no coming back from that mistake last night.  
Perhaps he shouldn't have smiled, but he couldn't help the slight tug at the corner of his lips. A slight glance was shared and Eddie cleared his throat, looking back at the map once more and reached for the radio dial. The music was fairly quiet and relaxed, only mixing with the light pattering of water that dropped from the trees above them onto the car. Like the road coming away from the asylum, there were only small gaps between the leaves and branches above, a perfect crooked line between the woodlands either side of the road meeting above, but not close enough to touch. The sky was grey, threatening to rain. They thankfully weren't too far up the mountain to get snow, he wasn't sure he could handle that on such little sleep. But what he enjoyed the most about it was the smell the rain brought up from the woodland floor. It was a warm freshness, the smell of the bracken, leaves that had started to fall, the moss and the dirt getting wet after the dry spells in the summer. It wasn't something he got living in California growing up, it was only when they moved into the Colorado area and travelled to the greener parts of the States that he finally got to appreciate that wet woodland scent. Eddie didn't really seem to be paying much attention, although he'd put the air conditioning on, he'd turned off the air circulation. Then again, he had a point, if they were wearing the same clothes they'd left the asylum in, then hot boxing in their own sweat wasn't high on the priorities list.  
He was twitchy, but they both were. How were you supposed to just act like nothing had happened, especially after how heated things had become? He'd promised he'd talk to him about it when he was ready, but when was that going to be? That could be a number of hours, weeks, or maybe it'd be years from now; he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to wait that long, as selfish of a notion as that was.

The road was relaxing, quiet and peaceful. He'd managed to tune into an indie acoustic radio or something, no lyrics to focus on, just repetitive and calming rhythms. Eddie could just idly trace the lines of the road or the circles that indicated how high the mountains reached. Simple little things he could do to ground himself. Talking to Waylon meant a lot of things, but the worst was having to try to explain his mental processes. Whilst Waylon wasn't neurotypical himself, there were aspects of his mental illness that would always elude him. Words didn't come easily, he knew he'd mentioned that much before, but the amount of flowery language he thought he'd have to use just to even come close to how intangible the concepts were was enough to make him want to wretch. It didn't seem to matter how much insight he had these days, the methods he'd been taught when he was younger felt just out of his grasp, he could picture the doctor talking to him, but he couldn't hear what he was saying, let alone focus enough to try and lip read.  
Perhaps he was putting Waylon on a pedestal? Putting too much of his own hopes and needs into one person, forgetting that he was actually a human being capable of being flawed rather than an ideal. He didn't know the relationship that he had with Lisa. Maybe they were at breaking point? Why else would someone take up a job that restricted the ability to see their family? But at the same time it wasn't his place to get in the middle of that, how could it be any different from being a homewrecker. He remembered how his father used to rag on the 'town slut'. Married, then met another man and decided no matter what she'd have him, tore two families apart and had to move out of town because people resented her so much. Even worse he agreed with his father, without realising it he'd condemned this woman for being too loose and yet there were over two dozen men who were renowned for their sexual appetite despite having a family, yet no one batted an eyelash. It was a conversation that needed to happen, but he was starting to learn how quickly Waylon flaked out of things or would find a way to evade. They were as bad as each other.  
“There's a junction coming up and-” He drawled slowly, glancing up from the map. He squinted, leaning forwards. There were birds everywhere, it shouldn't have been abnormal, they were in the woods after all, but the shadows seemed like they were moving. A dull whisper was at his ear, telling him that the map was wrong, it'd lead him back to Mt. Massive. He wasn't sure who it sounded like, but it certainly wasn't the Groom.  
“And?”  
“Uhm. You need to go left.”  
“Are you alright?”  
He glanced at Waylon, just like the night before his face wasn't quite right. The stubble wasn't there and yet it was. His hair was choppier, lips a little fuller or that may have been a trick of the light. It seemed no matter the medication he was on, the hallucinations wouldn't quite disappear. It was either that or he'd need a better prescription, how they'd manage to get that was beyond him. But the worst thing was he knew what was coming. The prickle along his neck and the lurching in his stomach at how suddenly overheated he felt was enough of an indicator. The medication really wasn't working.  
“I don't know. Just follow the road.” Waylon grimaced and glanced between Eddie and the road, despite the warning. _Why aren't you watching the road? Be more careful_. Eddie looked up from the map again, rubbing at his forehead and spotted it. It looked like Frank, but more emaciated. Its face was gaunt, pale and any traces of hair were scarce, only a few strands were left, but its arms were open wide, fingers long and sharp like claws. They were going to drive right into it. It was the same feeling of dread he'd gotten when Miles had saved them from Blaire. Were the two connected? What made it worse was that Waylon didn't seem to care, he was more focused on the sheer look of horror plastered on his features. “Watch the road, Waylon!”  
He reached out and grabbed the steering wheel, veering around the creature stood in the middle of the road. Waylon howled, trying to get control of the car once again as they rushed straight into the bracken to the right of the slip road; branches mercilessly hit the windshield, a loud crashing and crunching of branches and tree stumps hitting the sides and bottom of the car. The final bump set his teeth on edge, the sudden drop and grinding sound on the tire. The shadows laughed and faded from the corner of his eyes, revealing that they'd veered off the road. Eddie looked behind them, horrified at the thought that it could have followed them, but there was nothing. Nothing but the slight crackle of the radio and Waylon's short shallow breaths.  
“What the hell was that about?!” Waylon was red in the face, his hands trembling. Instantly Eddie felt himself recoil, hunching his shoulders.  
“There was... I saw something.” He rubbed at the back of his head and winced, the judgement was tangible.  
“Like there was that thing in the backpack in the kitchens?” He sounded furious, but he didn't look to have the energy to really get into a fight about it. “Eddie, the next time you see something like that you tell me, don't just grab the steering wheel. You could have gotten us killed or in a worse accident than this.”  
“I know- I just panicked-” He groaned under his breath and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Leave it. I'll change the tire.”  
Waylon tried to say something, but Eddie was out of the jeep before anything could leave his lips. The older man grumbled as he fished a tool kit out of the backseat. Waylon may have been proficient enough to do it himself, but a small part of him was glad that Eddie knew his way around a tyre iron and jack. He had to wonder if it'd be best to let him do it unsupervised, though...  
Quietly he slipped out of the car and watched Eddie get to work. His jaw was tensed, brows dipped and a firm frown in place. He knew he was probably beating himself up about what had happened. It was his avoidance technique, whenever there was trouble he'd clam up and keep to himself, better that than start a fight. He put it down to his father and uncle. Everything always came back to that. It was awful the way parents could fuck up their children. The way Eddie kept avoiding eye contact said it all if their gazes met he'd turn his head away and look back down at the tyre. Despite his nerves, the man was still efficient and yet there was tension in him like he was about to bolt.  
Waylon moved closer and saw Eddie jolt; both in turn winced. Eddie's fist connected with the side of the jeep and returned to cover his mouth.  
_You could run. Leave all this. He doesn't want you around. He's using you and will destroy you when he'd had his fill. Such a beautiful flower grown in such wretched soil, you know better than to trust this whore._  
“Eddie... I'm sorry I shouted,” Waylon offered, quietly. “I was scared.”  
He didn't reply, and though he was convinced he'd been un-wrenching the bolts on the flat tyre all he'd done was crank up the jack. The truth of the situation seemed to dawn on him as he leant back on his haunches, landing in the mud and covering his face.  
“I'm having a bad day.”  
“I know.” Waylon reached out and put his hand on Eddie's shoulder. He didn't jolt away but he wasn't sure if that was because he didn't feel like he could. “We both are, but yours is definitely shittier.” That earned a smirk at least. “We can make the stops, we'll have lunch at Idaho Springs and get some supplies. If you feel bad we can pull over whenever you need to.”  
“Please stop talking.”  
“Sorry.” Waylon went to take his hand away, but Eddie grabbed it. It was almost crushing, how tightly he was holding onto him. His heart began racing, starting to worry that he was about to go full tilt Groom on him.  
“I saw Frank.” Suddenly the worry wasn't quite so valid. “..I'm not sure what it was that they were doing at Murkoff. Everyone said it was just science, but now I'm starting to believe those crackpots that said they'd awoken something in the Mountain. They wanted us different and worse, but.. what were they doing? Did they even know? He didn't look like him anymore, it was _grotesque_. His hair had come out in clumps, his skin was pulled so taut that it looked like it'd split over his cheekbones-- _fuck_. I know it wasn't real now, but it felt so real.”  
“Do you have any idea why you saw him like that..?”  
“The Doctors said he had... shit what was it called- Wendigo syndrome. Where just out of the blue people start craving human flesh. They had to shove tubes down his throat just to get him to eat. They may as well have just let him eat the patients that hadn't lived up to their expectations.”  
“Eddie..”  
“They wanted the worst in us for the nano-machines to work, but, really? What kind of technology operates on that kind of shitty logic? A broken mind is one easier to meld to what you want it to be?”  
“From what I can guess, the Walrider was meant to be a weapon. They wanted to weaponise the mentally ill. Maybe, that's why you saw Frank. You knew what was happening to him, what was happening to all of you. Maybe your mind's telling you that that could have been you.”  
“So I'm going to start craving human flesh?”  
“Do you?”  
“God, no!” He recoiled looking offended at the notion. Waylon felt a small rush of relief, wondering if this was working, distracting him from his trauma.  
“I don't know what they wanted for you, maybe we could find something in your files...” This wasn't helping, he was waffling and perhaps looking too deeply into that void. It had a huge realm of possibilities and that was one rabbit hole he wasn't anywhere near prepared to start bounding down, not when Eddie was like this. “But you're not seeing him now, Frank wasn't here and he's most likely still at the asylum, probably.. well dead after that militia went up there.”  
“I wouldn't be so sure. The first militia group couldn't kill all the patients,” Eddie groaned and pulled himself out of the mud, lamenting his now damp trousers. They weren't getting anywhere with this flat tyre and it wouldn't change itself. “..Miles looked.. concerned. He had to have stayed behind for a reason, something didn't feel right and you can't tell me I'm being paranoid because you felt it too.” He picked up the tyre iron and began unscrewing it. “He saw too much and it left its mark on him.. I don't know about you but I don't want anything to do with it. I left to get away. I don't want to know.”  
“What if it explains why you're seeing things?”  
“Waylon, you sound like one of those guys on the History channel trying to say that indigenous cultures couldn't move their monuments and so it had to be aliens.” Waylon's nose wrinkled. “When I hear hooves I don't think 'unicorns', I think 'horses'. I'm seeing things because I'm sick.”  
“But you said it yourself, there was something in the air at Murkoff. What about all those phantom pregnancies in the female doctors?”  
“It was the nano-machines. I saw that report too.”  
“Okay, science crowd.” Waylon let out a small 'psht' and got up. At least, Eddie seemed to be back on proverbial track. “Wait, you've been going through the documents I found?”  
“Reading helps me sleep. Besides, you stole them, so they're not exactly _yours_ right?” That smirk crept upon his features again, “Pot calling the kettle black, no?”  
“I'm not mad.. I just.. You don't want to know and yet you've been reading the documents.”  
“I may be ill, but I am self-aware. I'd rather know what I can avoid. I don't believe in ouija boards, that also doesn't mean I'm going to take that gamble and use one. I'm exercising caution.”  
“You're being confusing as hell.”  
“You're only just noticing this?” Waylon groaned and scratched at his scalp, that tingling he'd felt most of last night returning. It was a stress reaction, granted he'd been a sickly child thanks to his habit of internalising stress, he'd have hoped he'd outgrown some of it and yet here he was twenty odd years later, still just as tightly wound. The Jeep rocked as Eddie tore the wheel off the axel and set it beside him.“It's a sick curiosity. I wanted to leave Mount Massive, but I also couldn't bring myself to leave. If I stayed then I would hurt more people, give them what they deserved and remain bound to the Mountain like so many others. If I left with you I could distance myself. Reading those files is.. I can see what was going on from the outside. I can have an informed opinion of what was really going on. Why those scientists could justify what they were doing to themselves... so far I haven't had the answers I've wanted, but it's not about what I want. It's about learning the truth. Then I can know how to best stick it to Murkoff later.” He tilted his head, brows dipped as he got to his feet, passing Waylon by to get to the new tyre. How quickly he bounced from one mindset to another was almost dizzying, this was the cold Eddie he'd met at first, but not the panicked and confused patient. The vicious Groom was nowhere to be seen, this was a man filled with righteous anger, and yet he was so... caring with him. Back in the mud, he used his shoulder to push it back on and gathered up the nuts and bolts. “Whether I should play up to my sickness, undoubtedly there will be people who say we all deserved it because of what we did, they won't want to understand the why. Or whether I should play it as one of them, cold and caught in their snare looking for justice.”  
“..Aren't you a bit of both?”  
“We both are. And there is a truth there, and no doubt I'll have hoards of people rushing to justify my actions and refuse to acknowledge the fact that I have in fact done horrific things myself, because what matters is how much of a tragic sunbeam I really am. No, I need to find the right balance.” He paused and set the tyre iron down, the wheel now fully secured on.  
“...I didn't realise you'd been thinking so much about it.”  
“I have to think about my case more than you will. You were a victim of the company, people will automatically be in your favour.”  
“You were too.”  
“But, I am a humble sinner. I have committed many wrongs beforehand. People don't just forget serial killers of women. You're not perfect no, but the media will no doubt make you sympathetic to beyond the point of being who you are. You'll be a martyr caricature of yourself.” Waylon sucked on his bottom lip. He knew Eddie wasn't wrong. “We'll see what happens. Until then, we have a militia to avoid.”  
“Is it done?” He glanced to the muddy tyre at the side of the road and thought about putting it in the backseat. Leave no trace right? Waylon grabbed it and shoved it in the case on the back of the jeep. “That was.. quick.”  
“If you think that was a pain, you've never seen someone trying to change a Tractor's tyre.”  
“How are you-”  
“I've said my bit. I just want to get out of here.”  
Clearly Eddie's superhero name would have been Whiplash. One minute he was freaking out and the next he was docile. _Coping mechanisms right?_ He wasn't sure he could handle Eddie having three dominant personalities instead of the two he was acquainted with.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You are the moon, I feel your weight  
> You tug at the ocean, you help it change  
> And you keep on reminding me of a darkness only I can see
> 
> What kind of world will there be  
> When I wake up from this dream?  
> I hear you call so far away  
> Just keep me close when I'm afraid
> 
> And don't you give up on me  
> As I dive into the dark  
> Slip into the endless sea  
> Don't you give up on me  
> Are you swimming in the stars?  
> Breathing in eternity  
> Don't you give up on me"  
> Don't You Give Up On Me - Lissie
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	18. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest stop at Idaho Springs proves to be something of an eye-opening occasion, finally Eddie begins peeling away at the defensive layers he'd made for himself and talks about himself and the road that lead him to being in Murkoff's care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I live deep in symmetry  
> In my anonymity  
> Je t’adore, ma vie tres difficile  
> I’ll take hours to perfect  
> In this room of disconnect  
> All I need are mannequins and me  
> Fabric straight from arm to arm  
> Rescuing my heart from harm  
> All that I can see speaks of finesse  
> Radically my fashion dreams,  
> Costumed men and models scream  
> Fame is nothing more than force duress  
> Let them comment of my cold behaviour  
> Beauty has a price that’s paid by greed
> 
> Where I am  
> I will stand alone  
> I don’t need the money  
> I don't want for much  
> These two hands  
> Never will they mourn  
> I’d rather you not love me  
> Before you want too much"

Despite the hold up further back on the road, Eddie seemed to be taking his episode in his stride, or that might have been more because he was too embarrassed to open up about the incident itself. People who suffered abuse were normally prone to lashing out, something of a monkey-see-monkey-so sort of learned behaviour. The worst part about it all was knowing that he was probably beating himself up about it all. Every once in a while, Waylon would gingerly reach over and lightly nudge the man, usually getting met with a thin-lipped smile. It'd taken its toll, but he was still attentive and very much grounded. Sometimes it was just better to get it out of your system, although Eddie seemed to be having troubles coming to terms with that; bottle it up until the lid would fly off and everything just got messy. Not really that Waylon could talk, he wasn't much better sometimes.  
The radio was on, although not nearly as loud as it had been, barely audible over the engine and the light popping and snaps of the wheels crushing the bracken that'd drifted onto the road. There had to be something he could do to shift the melancholic air, bring Eddie out of his shell. He wasn't the funniest person in the world, he didn't really consider himself to be a natural-born comedian, mostly parroting something amusing he'd heard himself somewhere along the line. Two naturally high strung people on the road together in increasingly confined situations, of course this wouldn't go badly.  
Eddie would shift every once in a while and glance between the map and the outside scenery that flew past in a semi-blur. The map was comically spread across his lap and as much of the dashboard as it could, it was almost like a blanket. Though, it had that pleasant musty smell about it, that combination of new textbook and the warm musk of libraries. Maybe it was something of a comfort to him like that. He could probably make an analogy that Eddie only had it open that much was so he could plan ahead and get a better picture, but that was going too far into trying to analyse Eddie than he was willing to right now.

“So, what are we going to do first at Idaho Springs?” Waylon hoped that he could play to Eddie's obsessive planning, get him to think about something other than what he did earlier.  
“Lunch would be good.” Eddie uttered, although he didn't seem all that interested. He was still leaning on his palm although he'd shift every once in a while. The man clearly wasn't a fan of being cooped up for longer periods of time, not that he could blame him.  
“I'm looking forward to a change of clothes,” Waylon admitted, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “It's funny how you just take something like that for granted and when you don't have the opportunity it just feels bad.”  
“We probably could have grabbed some more in the locker room.” Eddie sighed and shrugged. “Hindsight is 20/20... still, at least, we'll be able to find you something that fits you better. How does Lisa let you out of the house looking like that all the time?”  
“What's wrong with my clothes..?” Waylon glanced down at his shirt, hoodie and jeans combination. He was a computer engineer, not a boardroom director or anything like that, he didn't have to dress smartly.  
“They completely the wrong size for you.” Eddie sat up slightly and tugged at the shirt showing just how much excess there was. “It's unflattering, to say the least. Don't even get me started on those ratty jeans.”  
“But it's comfortable, I don't wanna be sat in a suit all day when I'm having to code or fix something.” The indignant tone that crept into his voice was unavoidable, he felt like he was being critiqued by his grandmother. Always about dressing respectably and that 'dress for the job you want' bs.  
“And something that fits well is also as comfortable. If it's made right then it's not restricting.” He returned back to leaning against the car seat though still giving Waylon a thorough look over. If he had the means then bringing that shirt in and fixing those jeans up wouldn't be so difficult. He couldn't hold it against Waylon too much, after all, everyone at some point has had a pair of jeans that either had been worn into submission or were the epitome of comfort. He just lost his years ago. Someday he'd find another pair no doubt, but he couldn't help it if his tactile nature made him picky. “Don't knock it until you've tried it.”  
“You're not giving me a make-over when we get a change of clothes.”  
“I wouldn't dream of it unless you asked me, darling.” Even if Eddie had put him on the defensive, he couldn't help but feel a little better seeing that amused little smirk. “I promise I would be gentle.”  
Waylon almost barked with laughter, the mental image of being measured up and reprimanded if he moved even slightly whilst Eddie fitted him for some expensive looking outfit was all too easy to imagine. Maybe he wouldn't mind it too much, but the last thing they needed were flashy clothes if they were on the run. _Not that I'd always want you to be gentle_. Ugh, there was that train of thought again. It was a miracle he could look at that side of the jeep and not start to let his mind wander about that night. Eddie's hands were so warm, hell he just _was_ warm. The sound of his heartbeat hammering so loudly, how demanding his kisses had been, but he was still holding back. This was normal, right? To be thinking so much about him after something like that, it was one of those unresolved tension things.  
“Are we going to spend the night there? I don't know about you, but I could really do with a good night's sleep.”  
“We haven't had that much luck with it, have we?” Eddie hummed, he'd stopped shifting and was stretched out a little more, slumped in the seat. He'd probably reclined it at some point, but hey, at least, he was comfortable. “Perhaps it'd be better to stay in a lodge on the outskirts. Don't want to leave ourselves in the open.”

Really Eddie was trying to ignore that sudden flush that'd spread across Waylon's cheeks after he promised he'd be gentle. It was easier to not acknowledge what had happened that night and forget about it, but unfortunately, that wasn't how Waylon worked. He was the sort of person that needed to express themselves, cutting off the emotion halfway wasn't the best way to handle him. Not to mention he was the sort to dig at it. In some ways, they were both as self-destructive as each other like that. Eddie would ignore it until it hurt too much and Waylon would keep digging until it bled. He'd do what he could to fix it, but he'd need to get Waylon to keep the boundaries in place. Typical of him really, trying to keep things black and white when there were so many shades between. Nothing was ever just simple, and as annoying as that fact was, it wouldn't go away just because he found it a massive inconvenience. How inconsiderate of it. _Now you're getting wound up at intangible concepts, go you, Gluskin._

 

The town was small, and something about it was reminiscent of Leadville. The shops either side of the road in the middle of a valley of the mountains. It was.. quaint. Really, the pavement was bustling and the traffic was slow and languid. Despite being a tourist area the pace was easy, you could probably forget your troubles if allowed to relax long enough and it was incredibly tempting. What was supposed to be a quick stop off after grabbing some clothes from a small independent clothes shop soon became checking into a lodge on the outskirts up a short dirt track with hot springs nearby. Thankfully Eddie didn't nit-pick about Waylon's choice of clothing, even if it followed the same style he was currently wearing. Although if he had, then Eddie would have been a hypocrite, going straight for a shirt, waistcoat and jacket, although this time he took a pair of dark jeans.  
The streets were too picturesque, maybe Eddie had done this entirely on purpose, but part of Waylon wasn't complaining. How easy would it have been to let the man put his arm around him as they walked around the town, playing the roles of a couple taking a late getaway break? Maybe he was overly romanticising the situation and letting a fantasy get the better of him, shoving these ideas onto Eddie without it being the reality at all. Hot springs were good for relieving tension, which he knew both of them could do with. Not to mention really he was setting himself up for probable disappointment.  
The fresh clothes felt amazing and Waylon spent most of the time they were wandering the town looking for a laundromat they could use later. Eddie however only seemed to have his mind on one thing: food. The breakfast they'd had before they left the motel was a pittance really, just some crisps and bottled water from an ancient vending machine, no wonder he looked like he would happily eat an entire cow. Not to mention his episode on the way had to have taken a lot out of him.

Waylon had been pushing his food around the plate for some time, he'd eaten most of it and knew he really should finish it, but part of him was telling him he couldn't be bothered. Which wasn't entirely untrue, there was a lot to see in the town and sitting watching the traffic go by wasn't doing it for him. There wasn't any freedom to be found being on the run, but he was hoping for a little while he could forget about it. Eddie was calmly making his way through a meat platter and a huge jacket potato, despite eating it with all the fervour of a starved wolf, he had to commend him on how restrained he was about it. But appearance and manners were important to him, otherwise, he wouldn't be wearing another suit jacket and waistcoat.  
Their waitress was a small round girl, probably barely into her twenties, but she was distinctively amused by the two of them, politely refilling their water every so often and checking if they needed anything else. Combined with the dull clink of cutlery on plates and the sound of the kitchen behind the till gave the place a homely sort of feel. Eddie was naturally all smiles and very grateful for the waitress' attentiveness, finding the simplicity of it all easing his mood. Waylon knew how short of a temper Eddie had when he was hungry, no doubt the noises would have gotten on his nerves had they been waiting any longer. When they were done, he left her a very generous tip muttering about how disgusting the pay rate in hospitality jobs usually had. Dinner was going to be spent at the hot springs lodge, more home cooked style food. All comfort food in reality, then again these were probably the best meals Eddie had had in years all things considered, even if the greasiness of them occasionally left Waylon's stomach lurching in protest, he still walked away feeling full and satisfied.  
It was all too easy to linger in the town longer than they intended, wander around, see the sights and window shop which had lead to Waylon having to gently encourage Eddie to stop tormenting himself and have a look at the next shop window. Granted he'd wished he'd left Eddie looking at the last shop window. It seemed odd for there to be a bridal shop in the area, and yet they were faced with a large silk and lace puffy wedding dress, next to it was a six-tiered wedding cake. He wasn't sure whether to get them to keep moving or let Eddie linger at this one, part of him was expecting that bittersweet resentment to cross his features but he just looked vacant.  
“I always wanted to work in a place like this.” Eddie tilted his head, scrutinising the structure of the dress. Waylon was more or less of the mindset that if you saw one wedding dress you more or less knew what you were looking at, not that he'd ever tell Eddie or Lisa that. “It was almost like you became part of their big day, the fruits of your labour making everything just that little more special. It's ridiculous really, perhaps a little too sentimental. I can't stand the excessive culture around weddings these days, it all has to be some big show. What's wrong with something intimate between the bride and groom with close family and friends, there's always the after-party if you want something wilder. It.. just seems to be all a big competition now.”  
“Would you be able to be so picky about your clients if you worked here?”  
“Not really. Although, I'd always hoped I'd have the sort of place where people would travel to. I was always obsessive about small details, I'm sure it'd be appreciated. Nothing's more personal than having your dress specially made for you from scratch compared to buying the latest seasonal designs that someone else has said is 'fashionable'. It's commercialised. This unfortunately, doesn't seem to be a shop where you can commission a seamstress to make something. Yes, it looks expensive, but anyone who sews can see that the dress hasn't been hemmed properly, it's all hidden under that upper layer and because they don't think anyone will see it. It's mass produced and lacks care.”  
“Just from that speech alone, I think if you did have a shop like this, you'd have people coming from all over.”  
“That's sweet of you to say, I think my intensity might make people uncomfortable.” Eddie rubbed the back of his head.  
“You'd be called eccentric, sure, but isn't everyone in a creative business? It'd be part of your charm. Not that you need any more of it.”  
“Flatterer.” He snorted and lightly nudged Waylon, making his way away from the store. “Besides, I'm not sure after everything I could. Ex-serial killer running a bridal shop is hardly a way to bring clientele in.”  
“It's good to have a dream, though.” _How easy would it be to just take a hold of his arm right now?_ Waylon followed after him, offering a small encouraging smile. “Even if you just designed things as a hobby, it's better than not, right?”  
“Perhaps.” It was dismissive, clearly indicating that Eddie didn't really want to talk about it anymore. Not that Waylon could blame him. He was right, realistically it wouldn't be an easy task at all. Although if he was based in a small town in the middle of nowhere and no one knew him, it would perhaps be easier said than done. “Come on. There's a bath back at the lodge with my name on it. Besides.. there's some things I want to discuss with you, that perhaps wouldn't be good conversation out in the open.”  
The tone was ominous, no doubt it was a weighty topic or something that was important to him. Yet he didn't have his eyebrows set firmly dipped, his jaw tightened or shoulders squared. Perhaps it wasn't something that especially mattered to him? There was a distinct air of resignation about him, though that'd been lingering on him since the episode on the mountain road. Was it about Murkoff? There were too many variables to try to read when it came to Eddie. Sometimes he was straightforward and others not so much, perhaps it was time to brace himself for another round with Whiplash.

At the lodge, Eddie booked one of the hot spring baths for just the two of them and Waylon was fairly sure the reason the man agreed to it was because of the wedge of cash he'd been offered and the fading wounds on his face. After all, if youhad scars you didn't want people staring at you like you were on display. As relaxing as the water was Waylon couldn't quite find it in himself to wind down just yet, as awful as it was Eddie leaving himself on display was proving to be something of a distraction. He'd seen him fully naked twice now, not counting that time Eddie stripped off his shirt in front of him yet it never got any easier for him to not stare. Despite everything he was very well built man, he had to wonder if they'd let Eddie use the exercise yard consistently to maintain that build or if he was naturally so.. shapely. It wasn't the sort of cellophane wrapped skin around muscles, he didn't have a gut, but the muscles weren't immediately noticeable until he watched Eddie sink into the water and let out a very long exhale andThe muscles in his body twitched at the change in temperature. He'd left the towel the lodge had provided behind him on the tiled floor. There wasn't a problem, not really, but knowing that he'd had that pressed against him the previous night made his knees feel weak. He was so glad he was sat down.  
“Last night.” _Here we go_. “We both know it was a mistake.” Waylon sunk a little further into the water and nodded, albeit perhaps more embarrassed by the whole thing than Eddie was. “I didn't see you for you... no that's wrong.. I knew it was you, but it also wasn't. I was having something like a flashback. The last time I'd.. been intimate with someone in their car was with an ex-girlfriend of mine... Her name was Lani. She was the first woman that I killed.”  
Suddenly Waylon realised why his tone had been quite so ominous, he winced. He didn't want to hear about it. He shouldn't have been having this conversation, it was too personal, too soon. How could Eddie just be opening up to him about this, so casually talking about the person he killed? She was his girlfriend, someone he loved, how could he do that to someone? After all this time of travelling around with Eddie, it'd been so easy to compartmentalise that he'd killed people, but now, was this his goal? Keep the boundaries up by disgusting him.  
“It was an accident. In fact at first, for a very long time, I didn't even realise that I'd been the one to kill her. She was like me, we'd both come from.. troubled relationships. Her fiancee used to beat her black and blue, high school sweethearts and he couldn't stand that he'd never gotten to go pro with his football. She was going through getting a restraining order against him. It worked for us, we both knew our boundaries, we knew the things that we shouldn't have done; what would have hurt us.” Eddie fidgeted like he was unsure of what he should have been doing with himself. “She was patient with me. We were good for one another.”  
Waylon sucked on his bottom lip, the worst part about it was that he sounded completely genuine. Was this part of what kept him awake at night?  
  
_She came home that night with a glint in her eyes, groceries under her arm. It'd been a scorching hot day and the straps of her top were half way down her arm, a sheer cardigan was the only thing keeping my eyes from wandering too much, not that it would have mattered to her. Lani sometimes had these looks, you could tell she was on a high from the way she held herself, it'd been a good day and she intended to celebrate. She did bookkeeping in a little store five minutes away from the apartments, the little old lady that worked in there had to hire her when she found herself making mistakes when she was tired, rather than admitting defeat and closing she hired Lani. She knew all about what was happening in her life and took pity on her, she was a wonderful woman, tough but incredibly kind. Unfortunately, she could only pay her enough to have her in for a few hours a day, just to make sure everything tallied, but that was alright, it gave her more time at the diner to make enough for the rest of the bills._  
“I'm quitting the diner.” She proudly proclaimed as she set down the paper bags on the counter. The spring in her step transferred from her straight into the bag as everything jumped as if celebrating with her.  
She'd been talking about doing it for months, the tips were awful, mostly because the duty manager kept pocketing them and no one would have believed one waitress over him.  
“But what about the rent?” I got to my feet. My legs ached, I'd probably pushed myself too hard that day.  
At that point, I'd been working in construction. The town had been stagnant for so long that the prices in the area had plummeted, meaning realtors had swooped in, bought out land and intended to build. It'd sounded great at the time, but there was always the murmuring that this would be what killed the town, the only people that would be able to afford it would be all the old money folks and the rest of us would be thrown into the gutter. I felt bad enough that what I was making wasn't enough to cover everything, it was an old-fashioned notion, that it was the man who'd pay for everything and Lani would stay at home. I kept reminding myself that things weren't as simple as that anymore. “I can't get any more hours, we're already using too much overtime as it is.”  
Lani shushed me, waving her hands placatingly, despite my paranoia her smile stayed in place and the corners of her eyes softened. Her hair was a rich coppery brown and in the sunset filtering through the blinds, it almost looked as though her hair was on fire. Again, I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky to deserve a woman like her. She clasped my hands and beamed up at me, barely able to keep herself from jumping up and down with excitement.  
“Enid's giving me the store.” Her voice was a barely contained whisper. “You know how busy it is, you can quit working the construction place and join me there, we can make it our own! You can do clothes alterations for people, show them what you can really do instead of killing yourself at the construction site.”  
It almost sounded like a pipe dream. It had to have been too good to be true and I felt like I needed her to pinch me just to convince me that I wasn't dreaming. I'd joined the construction site because my therapist at the time had said it would be best for me to do something with my hands and would keep me away from people; do something practical, make something from nothing. It sounded fanciful but worthy, although I was beginning to wonder if they'd suggested it because it would exhaust me to the point where I  _ **had**_ _to sleep at the end of the day. Too tired and too busy to think about everything that had happened._  
_“Is she sure?” I blinked rapidly at her, “She's serious?”_  
_“Yes!” There were almost tears in her eyes as she threw her arms around my waist._  
_It was a break, finally after everything we'd worked for, something was finally going to work out. I picked her up in and embrace and spun, laughing, knowing this was finally it, our big break. We celebrated by drinking whatever cheap champagne she'd brought home and went to the cinema. Technically illegal, but by this point we'd done enough drinking to wash our sorrows away that we had_ cast-iron _constitutions. I'd never seen a woman manage to put away as much as Lani did, such a tiny woman but she was as_ fiery _as her hair. Her encounter with her abusive boyfriend had only seemed to push her to be stronger, to try harder and not take any flack from a single person anymore. My father would have called her crass and a vulgar woman, but she was nothing short of the most enchanting woman I'd ever met. I wanted to be as strong as her, so I stayed by her side, supporting her through whatever means I could in the hopes maybe I'd learn to be as strong as her. The movie wasn't the greatest thing we'd ever seen, but it was still an evening out. I couldn't even remember the last time we'd had the money to go on a date like other people did._  
  
_The comedown from the high is always the worst._

 _Most of the alcohol was out of our systems by that point, but we were still giddy on the announcement. As we pulled into our parking spot by the apartments Lani pulled me in for a kiss. It wasn't unusual, we'd tried to be intimate but given our previous experiences sex wasn't something we felt we were in the right place for. If we wanted pleasure it'd be.. almost clinical, how much we'd have to communicate. We'd touch one another, but it never went past that; but it was fine, we were taking it slowly, we knew how much it meant. It was when she clambered into my lap that it didn't feel like the other times, it'd been easy to switch off the chattering and ignore the flashbacks to my childhood. She felt good, the warmth she radiated. Said that she wanted to try something new. I agreed, I was just as excited as she was. It wasn't much more than grinding, no penetration involved but it was enough._  
_I don't know when exactly I'd blacked out, everything seemed to be going perfectly. When I woke up I was in our bed, but there was no sign of Lani. I chalked it up to drinking too much and perhaps she'd gone to the bathroom and rolled over, I waited for her to come back. It felt like hours passed, but there was no sign of her, I started to get worried. I threw my clothes on and began walking around the apartment, but there wasn't a trace of her. It was still dark outside, the street lights were still on, casting their dull orange tones into every nook of the room. When I reached the front door my blood ran cold._ It'd _been kicked off its upper hinges, barely hanging on. I wondered how in the hell I'd managed to sleep through it. I desperately tried to think what could have happened, but all I was drawing was blanks. Nothing made sense. Robberies weren't common in the area and to get into the building you had to have two keys, but by the look of it all, it hadn't been just a simple robbery because none of the other apartments had been bothered – it looked personal. I panicked more, desperately trying to think who could have done this. Who would have broken in and kidnapped Lani? The only person I could think of was Lani's ex. I felt the blood drain from my face as I grabbed my keys and darted down the stairs. I knew I could have taken the elevator, but it wasn't on our floor and it was notorious for taking an age to get anywhere; only kept for aesthetic's sake. I could hear other tenants shuffling in their apartments, I think I must have called for her because the retired man in the apartment below us met me with a look like thunder. I can't remember his name, I just gave him the nickname Colonel because of his thick grey moustache and military attitude._  
_“You kids_ done _makin' such a fucken' racket up there? Anyone woulda thought you were wrestling with a damn grizzly.” His arms were folded like cast iron gates._  
_“We've been robbed,” I replied dumbly. “Lani's gone.”_  
_His glare disappeared as he dropped his previous stance and leant back into his apartment, he returned with a shotgun and the phone tucked under his shoulder. “That no good fuckin'. She knew this would happen someday. Gluskin, I'm_ callin _the cops, you see if you can find 'em, I'll catch up.”_  
_I had to wonder if everyone knew what Lani's dirty laundry was, but she was the kind to be open and liked bonding with neighbours, she believed it to be important. Much of a hardass the man downstairs was he'd promised to keep an eye out for Lani's ex, Pete, if he ever came sniffing around. Apparently he had when we first moved in and even went so far as to hunt her down at work. Then she began filing the restraining order. Everything started to make sense and I could feel myself getting more worked up, I didn't even begin to wonder why I was fine but Lani wasn't._  
_As I stepped out onto the street, a shudder shot through me, despite the scorching temperature during the day the pavement was freezing under my bare feet. I couldn't make out the colour in the dim light, but there were light patterings of liquid that lead to the alley. I didn't think anything about it and I went to retrace my steps, starting first at the car. I wish I hadn't. The windows were all smashed, blood was everywhere. It smelt putrid, the tang of blood mixing with stale alcohol and piss, the typical stench of the alley this time of night. No doubt drunks used it as a public toilet on their route back to bed. I walked around the car and felt bile creep up my throat, there in front of me was Lani with her skull caved in, the_ pattering _of liquid that had led down there had grown thicker, more into thick streaks that ended up where Lani's body was. She'd been beaten badly and carved into her was the word 'whore'. I choked, feeling the red mist descending as rage filled me. Everything was supposed to be fine, everything was going to go perfectly, we'd gotten what we needed and now it was gone. The Colonel arrived behind me and pulled me away. I was beyond consolable, he kept telling me the cops would be here any second._  
_They found the murder weapon in Pete's trashcan, the police department didn't bother looking for any other suspects, mostly because everyone knew what a piece of human trash he was. He didn't even bother to deny he was innocent, even if his mother protested and gave him a solid alibi, no one believed her because everyone knew mothers would lie to protect their sons. The story soon came to be that he'd broken in and knocked me out then dragged Lani out to have a 'chat' with her, she'd reminded him of the restraining order and he went for her. No one seemed to question if the tyre iron was actually Pete's. It was done and dusted as soon as it happened. I went back to therapy for longer sessions and Enid offered me Lani's place in the store. I turned it down, I wasn't in the right place to be dealing with people. I suffered enough sympathy at the construction site. Shortly after I moved out of the apartment, once repairs were done. I couldn't be there any longer._  
_The years passed and Pete's mother still wouldn't give up trying to prove his innocence, she even sent a PI to go and dust the place for fingerprints, although none of them stood up in the appeals because it was natural to find my fingerprints on our front door. The sheriff told me to not worry about it and to just keep taking it a day at a time._  
_I met Maggie through a group therapy session. She had thin hair from where she pulled it out when she was anxious, nervous but bubbly. She wasn't nearly so driven as Lani had been, a hairdresser, not as smart either. But she was sweet and caring. Once again the cycle seemed to repeat itself, the first time we tried to have sex I blacked out. But she was never found, it was almost as though she'd skipped town. I was devastated, but I couldn't get over the nagging sensation that something more was going on. It didn't seem right._  
_I don't know what it was that tipped me off, perhaps it was that the therapy wasn't helping anymore. I spent most of my days seething and just waiting for someone to start a fight, just waiting to lash out and destroy someone. I was pulled over by the foreman and he told me to take some time off, I hadn't stopped since Lani and now this thing with Maggie.. someone had to have been suspicious that there was a pattern. Every day I felt people staring at me. I know now, they were being sympathetic, word travels fast in small towns, but I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand them staring at me like that, I couldn't take how a room would just go silent the minute I entered._  
_Eventually, I decided to do something like a test, to see whether they were right or not. I blacked out whenever I slept with Lani and Maggie and then all these awful things had happened? It couldn't have been a coincidence. I called the police beforehand and told them, I didn't know what was happening but I needed to be stopped. I didn't tell them anything else and headed out. I found a working girl, her name was Tess. She was a runaway trying to make it through each day. I couldn't tell you just how much liquor and drugs she had to have been on, but she just saw another job. Sure as anything, I blacked out and when I woke up I was chained to a chair in the precinct behind bullet proof glass. The cops there all looked horrified like I was a monster. They played me a recording of the questioning, I barely recognised myself. At first, I was adamant it wasn't me and this was all an awful joke. How cheerfully and disgusting the voice had been, describing everything that had happened to Tess, to Maggie and to Lani. How gleefully they went into description about it, almost taunting the police for not realising how stupid they'd been. 'They were nothing more than whores' That was all he'd keep saying as if that was justification enough. I didn't believe them, I couldn't. It sounded like me, but it wasn't. Soon enough the evidence piled up and they even found Maggie's bones. She'd been hacked up and scattered around the edges of the town. They soon began to refer to me as Bluebeard, how I must have tempted these fragile women in just to kill them for kicks, it didn't matter that the psychologist kept trying to reason that this all happened because my therapist had been useless at helping me after all the childhood trauma I'd gone through. It didn't matter. I still did it. That grotesque part of me is still in here, I was still capable of doing such a thing. I kept lashing out. After all, I was a monster, that's what monsters do right? I wasn't doing this because of my trauma, I was just sick. I refused to acknowledge it yet at the same time I became consumed by it. I was nothing more than a product of a broken home that had been allowed to fester, just another let down by the system but I wasn't sympathetic enough to get out of any consequences. Good._

“...How did you wind up at Mount Massive?” Waylon found his skin crawling, a chill that wouldn't relent despite the hot water he was surrounded by. Eddie didn't look much better, his cheeks were red from the heat, but the rest of him was pale.  
“It was orchestrated.” He replied flatly, staring at the rocks under the surface. “they sent an insurgent to the asylum I was staying at, killed a nurse in my cell, covered me in her blood whilst I was paralysed with shock and set off the alarm. I was doing _well_ there. The people there _cared_ and they wanted to _help me_. I was safe.” His fist clenched, eyes narrowing and growing misty. “Then Murkoff oh so helpfully offered to take me in, they claimed to have better facilities and better-trained doctors. After all, after that they couldn't have me stay there, not when I'd disrupted the peacefulness. None of the doctors or nurses felt safe around me. They handed me over with no questions asked... I tried to tell them, but.. who believes you when you're just a crazy person right? You don't know what's really going on.... They deliberately made me sick, the pills they force fed me just made me feel ill all the time. I never had any energy. I may as well have spent the last five years in a daze.”  
“...I'm so sorry Eddie. I shouldn't have that night, if I'd known-” Waylon reached out to touch Eddie's upper arm, only for it to jerk away. The distance between them growing further.  
“I didn't _want_ you to know. You see now why we can't? Why whatever you want can't happen, One day we'll lose control of ourselves and it'll go too far. I can't go through it again. I can't do it.” His face scrunched, and covered it with his hands, shoulders shaking. “You're just like them.. you're too kind. I'll crush you. I'll destroy you. It doesn't matter how much I may find myself drawn to you, I cannot trust myself around you. So please, just let me be, darling, for me, _please_... don't make me do to you what I did to them.”  
Despite his pleading for distance, Waylon's arm was over Eddie's shoulder with the man sobbing into the crook of his neck. He held him gently, his hand soothing up his back. His breathing rattled violently, shuddering with each breath he struggled to take. When was the last time he'd cried? When had he actually been able to talk about this?  
“Shh. I won't.” It hurt to say it like he was shooting down the possibility before it'd even had the chance to take seed, but if he was as scared as he was, then how could he be so selfish to push that on him? “I'm still here for you.”  
“You're a fool.”  
Waylon didn't reply, mostly because he did agree with that statement. He was making the best of a shitty situation, even if Eddie had indeed had it far worse for a long time. He was expecting himself to be repelled like Eddie had perhaps hoped, or maybe he was testing his resolve. There was also every possibility that what he'd said was all lies, he was a compulsive liar after all. But if he'd denied it was him because he didn't believe it, then it'd be natural they'd chalk him down to be a liar. Murkoff's scientists weren't really qualified for the task of helping those who were ill, they had no idea what they were dealing with half the time. They stayed in the warmth until the colour drained from the sky above turning to the rich ink blue back dotted by small specks of silver. It was much clearer this far up in the mountains, the crickets beginning their song and the odd animal cry. It was relaxing, no wonder Eddie had insisted on staying here.  
Gently he took Eddie's hands and handed him his towel, they'd probably been in there for hours, given just how wrinkled his fingers had become, but regardless it was pleasant. Eddie's eyes were red and slightly puffy once again and looked sore, the veins that had blown thanks to the Morphogenic Engine had been aggravated. But he let himself be lead on, letting Waylon dry him off when they were sat in their cabin; a distinct air of resignation had settled on him.  
“Please don't misunderstand me.” He uttered, wearily, his voice hoarse. “I'm glad to have met you and I wouldn't trade this experience... but do you understand why I can't trust myself around you now?” Eddie gripped Waylon's wrist stopping him from carrying on drying him. “How important it is that you keep your guard up around me?”  
“I'm going to tell you something Eddie, and you may find it shocking.” Waylon sighed and settled next to him. “I trust you. Even when you have been at your worst, I trust you. I trust you to do what you need to do to defend yourself if you feel threatened. If I'm threatening you by.. wanting something I don't know what it is yet, then I'll back off.”  
“I don't want you to. But you have to.” He admitted quietly. “It's better this way.”  
“Is it?” _You're overstepping the mark Waylon..._ “So, this is it, we're going to torment ourselves over whatever this is?”  
“You have a family and I'm dangerous, what about this are you not getting?”  
“Pretending that this isn't happening isn't going to make it go away, it's just going to make us feel worse. I want you to be happy, and I can't... I can't just guilt myself into forgetting. Call me weak, but I don't think that's the healthy way to deal with this.”  
“And what is?” Eddie's nose wrinkled, snatching the towel out of Waylon's grasp. “Since you suddenly seem to be the expert.”  
“Being honest.” The man next to him made a disgruntled noise and stood up, finishing drying himself off and grabbing clothes. “If we don't talk about this it's going to get worse.”  
“It already is worse... You're welcome to wax poetic about this all you like, darling, but I'm too tired for this horse-shit. Let me know if you have an epiphany, but I'd like a good night's sleep.”  
“You're running again.”  
“And you're not? You're running from facing the consequences, leaving the fallout for your future self to have to deal with. I'm being a voice of reason.”  
“That doesn't change how I feel. I'm a shitty human being for it, I know. But it's not going away, it doesn't matter how much I remind myself that I have my family, it doesn't matter how bad I make myself feel. This hasn't come from me feeling like I owe you something, I don't feel obligated.”  
“You're a pain, you know that?” Eddie rubbed his face and heaved a sigh.  
“I know. You're not the first person to tell me that. I'm indecisive and I'm a flake.”  
“You're also impulsive.”  
The conversation was going in circles again, both as stubborn and unyielding as the other. Eddie never saw himself becoming a homewrecker, let alone becoming emotionally involved in Waylon, he could blame the Groom all he wanted on this one, but he knew he was putting expectations on Waylon, hoping he'd do certain things and Waylon being the people pleaser he was was lapping all of it up. It takes two to tango and he was just as guilty, one minute telling him to stay away and the next accepting everything he threw his way. Mixed signals were a thing and it was making it more complicated. Perhaps part of the reason Waylon was so adamant was because he had a feeling he'd never see his family again after this. Who'd want to spend the rest of their lives alone?  
The fire crackled as a log gave in and broke in half releasing small sparks to the rising flames. Waylon had resigned himself to the silence and had settled under the covers on the double bed. He was right. They simultaneously were an item and also weren't; they were devoted to one another because they had nothing else now thanks to Murkoff. Waylon was now forced to live potentially the rest of his life with his family just out of reach. Tomorrow was going to be one awkward conversation after another. He winced, finding the cold air was indeed stronger than the heat the fire was capable of producing. He placed the fire guard and approached the bed. He wanted to be an optimist about it, he really did, after all, Waylon was the first to face the Groom and live. But it was such a gamble, too many skewed odds and risks he was unwilling to take. He slipped under the covers, shifting closer to Waylon, close enough to place his arm under his neck and pull him close.

 _Murkoff deserves our fury, but what is it he deserves?_  
“I'm sorry.” Waylon sighed, wrapping his ankles around Eddie's cold feet. For the first time, Waylon was the one that felt like a furnace, beckoning him with his warmth.  
“Don't be. It is what it is, whether we like it or not.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Travelling I do forget  
> Every single last regret  
> Solitarily there is one quest  
> To my cause I will devote  
> All my passion, note for note  
> To create and fill this emptiness  
> Freedom that lies underneath  
> Let it fall and let them breathe  
> Bodies are not meant to be so bound  
> I’m the dancer of the dance  
> Let the socialites in her hands  
> Let them love me when I’m not around  
> When they speak their words of my demeanor  
> I will let them fuel, wipe their fire
> 
> Fading as I live in isolation  
> Information spreads that I have left  
> For them let it be an education  
> Those who cherish me will not let them forget"  
> Paris - Caro Emerald
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	19. Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon is reunited with his family, even if it's a short-lived joy. Eddie gets his first decent night's sleep but the dreams he's left with leave him wondering if it's at all worth it. A quick exit and soon the cry for justice is louder than ever, the mess that was Mount Massive is now no longer something Murkoff can afford to sweep under the carpet with Lisa leading the protests and galvanising people to speak up and out against their practices. Waylon and Eddie are forced to go into hiding with the outcry as their cover, waiting for the dust to settle in order to plan their next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I don't have to mention  
> That I saw you today  
> I shone the sign into your eyes  
> And you don't always have to question  
> Why there's pleasure in pain  
> Cause there's no truth for you to find
> 
> I'm drawing perfect circles  
> Round the life that we could share  
> And what is ours is ours to keep  
> I know the thing you want the most  
> You hide it over there  
> Safe at the dark end of the street"

“I'm fine Lisa, I promise.” Waylon spoke into the payphone. Eddie leant on the car bonnet, casting his gaze down either side of the road. They were surrounded by woodlands that lead to the rocky peaks they'd escaped from only a day or two beforehand. He could just about hear the voice on the other end of the line. Part of him told him that this was the beginning of the end. Once Waylon was back home, there'd always be the possibility of having to go his own way, whilst he was capable of being a lone wolf, he wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd become thankful for Waylon's presence. Lord only knew what had happened to Miles after they left the place. Blaire was ripped to shreds in front of them and amongst the black haze his silhouette had stood. The man had to be pretty pissed that they'd stolen his car, but he had supernatural abilities now, he was sure he'd be _more_ than fine. Eddie wasn't about to lose sleep over the fact that he saved himself from sharing an awkward car drive with a possessed higher being.. or whatever the Walrider was supposed to be. Besides, with just him and Waylon he could guide their direction better. He knew what was coming, Waylon had been hoping to just stay with his family the minute they submitted the files, the viral leaks man had assured them it wouldn't be so simple. They'd be on the road until Murkoff was taken down, which given their legal system and how deep their fingers were in just about every pot they could muster, could take years potentially. It had been under a month almost that Waylon had been away from his family, but he was acting as though his world had stopped spinning now that he was finally talking to Lisa again. Was that really what it all felt like? To have that close of a family? Eddie's lip curled and he bit at his lower lip, seething. He was jealous. He knew that much. Jealous of what Waylon had or jealous that he couldn't be part of it? He shook his head, ruffling his hair and opting to stretch his legs rather than brood. Waylon had a piece of paper scrunched in his hand, it had their number on it, no doubt after the skype session they'd had two nights ago he'd gotten the number written down... still, even if the idiot had forgotten he'd snuck his phone with him to work the day he got caught, the battery was flat as a pancake.  
He felt awful, but he was secretly a little smug once the jealousy fizzled away. Lisa would only have him for a while, and after that Waylon would be his darling for however long they'd have to remain on the road. It may have been the Groom's reasoning pushing his way in, but he was right. Waylon was all but throwing himself at his feet, there was so much power over this situation available that it made him a little giddy. But it was because he trusted him, he'd be a fool to betray that, ruin everything they'd worked to build.

“You were trapped there by those corporate fff-” Lisa cut herself off, one of the kids had probably gone by, Waylon concluded. Her voice carried on but in a harsh whisper. “fuuuudge eaters for nearly a month. They were desperate to keep you there, what did you do?”  
“I did the right thing.” Lisa groaned loudly on the other end of the phone. “I got in trouble, but I got out. I'm.. I'm okay.. I think. We'll be there before five I think. Can you park your car outside the house? We're gonna need to hide the Jeep.”  
“We? Who's we? Where did you get a Jeep? Where's _your_ car?”  
“I.. uh, look please don't worry. I helped one of the patients, they got me out and I said I'd make sure they were taken care of.” Eddie laughed loudly and Waylon waved his hand at him mouthing an aggravated 'shhh'.  
“You're going to bring a strange man into our house?”  
“Yes. I'm sorry.” Waylon hung up, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a firm line.  
“If when we get in, and I have the front row seats to your domestic, I am sleeping in the car.” Eddie deadpanned and gestured to the backseats with his thumb. All they needed now was some tumbleweed and the image would be complete.  
“I'm sure Lisa would _love_ that.” Waylon sighed, getting into the driver's seat.

The drive was mostly quiet, like always, Eddie was keeping himself occupied as usual by trying to tune to a radio station he could stand to listen to for five minutes before they lost the signal as they passed the next little town. Waylon's mind was racing, wondering just exactly how he could explain Eddie. Hello wife, yes meet the man I'm starting to get attached to, he's a psychopathic serial killer with an intense persuasion to killing women, oh and he tried to make me his bride. But he's harmless really. He winced. There was absolutely no way that it would fly. His wounds were turning into scars, far less red and angry, even if the stitches in his forehead were a little distracting, no matter how artfully done.  
“Don't try and cover for me, it's only going to make things worse.”  
“Eddie-”  
“I'm at peace with what I am, why can't you be?”  
“She won't like it.”  
“She doesn't have to. We'll be there one night and be gone in the morning.” Eddie replied flatly, staring out the window. He was resting his chin on his knuckles with the window rolled down just enough to let a breeze in the car. The pollen was thick in the air, making it sweet but just that little bit suffocating.  
“We'll stay there as long as we need to.”  
“Murkoff have literally been waiting for you to return there. Do you not remember Leadville?” Eddie growled lowly. “When you're on the run from someone you take routes that _you_ wouldn't. You have to become someone else entirely just to throw them off. You forget I actually know _how_ to live like a fugitive, _darling_.”  
“It's fine. I'll make it fine. We've managed to plan this much right?”  
“You don't even know where we're going to go afterwards do you?”  
Waylon didn't reply, trying to pretend that he didn't have to answer, Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as his attention returned to the scenery outside the window. There were only a few stops between the payphone and Waylon's home. Each time they used the card, Waylon sent an internal apology to Miles for wrecking his card. _It's only until I can use mine._ He told himself, they'd used it too much for his liking, although Eddie seemed rather fond of living on someone else's credit card but that just said it all. He'd never considered anything practical about Eddie's financial status, from what he'd told him the night before it hadn't been all that amazing. This was all going to be on him, not that that was.. difficult. Murkoff paid incredibly, it's the only reason he took the job on in the first place. Even if it was just what amounted to hush money. He filled the tank completely, mostly from Eddie constantly telling him to plan ahead.  
“It's not always going to _just_ work out. Our luck will run out if we don't start being smarter about this.”  
Begrudgingly he complied, knowing full well Eddie would have just wrestled him aside and taken over. It was strange, despite everything the threat of violence didn't carry quite the same connotations it had merely days before. If he got angry, he didn't lash out at him, not physically anymore. Even if the Groom was around, he'd grow red in the face, howl profanities inches from his face, but he'd only break something inanimate. Something meaningless. Not ideal but it was better than repeated concussions.  
“Just another hour and we'll be in town.”  
“Good.” the older man sighed, slipping down the seat. He didn't fasten his seatbelt this time, not like Waylon did. “If I have to hear another crackly radio station playing 'Moon River' I may be forced to throw the radio out whilst we're in motion.”  
“I thought you enjoyed the classics?”  
“It's akin to a form of self-flagellation these days.”  
Waylon snorted, starting the engine and pulling away from the gas station.

 

At least when he got there Eddie was dressed in a more than presentable manner. He looked sleek, like a rich bachelor. Better than that patchwork mess that was the waistcoat and shirt he'd butchered. He had to wonder if that's what he'd always dressed like that, even when he was with Lani. Were his accounts even accessible any longer? Murkoff probably found some way to access them, claiming it was all to cover the costs of treating him and steadily bled them dry. It was a depressing thought, especially as if he didn't have Lisa it probably would have happened to him as well. By comparison Waylon looked like Eddie's not as successful friend from college.. well if there wasn't a good ten years between them. He snuck a glance at the man, he'd closed his eyes for a moment, fingers laced across his chest. He didn't have a bow tie with his shirt and waistcoat combination, just an open collar that showed the dip of his clavicles. Was this how the Groom caught the women he killed? Seduced them with his charms and then tore them piece to piece. Waylon swallowed back the thought, trying to remind himself that Eddie was more than his crimes and illness. Underneath it was a man who didn't know how to deal with what had happened to him all those years ago, he put on a face of confidence because really after all these years if he didn't know how to deal with his mental illnesses then what could he do? Today was a good day for him at least. Was he behaving because he knew what was coming? He wanted to think it was because Eddie wanted to make a good impression, but deep down he knew it was all down to making things easier for himself. Eddie could play people like finely tuned instruments, he'd seen that for himself at the asylum and it had nearly been the end of him. The still somewhat sore lump on the back of his head was enough of a reminder. The man was dozing, gathering his energy or simply from boredom. Not that he could blame him. They'd talked for so long it was astounding they still found things to discuss.  
“I know you want to stay there. You want everything to just disappear when you're in the comfort of your own home.” Not as sleep as he thought, though stopping at the first set of traffic lights on the outskirts must have had something to do with it. “I understand. And for a while, it will. But they won't let us get comfortable, I'm sorry for that. You're going to have to be stronger for a lot longer than you probably prepared yourself to be.”  
Waylon's brows dipped, he had to wonder if Eddie was really all there at that point in time. His eyes were somewhat glossed over. He glanced to the cup holder at Eddie's side and his prescription bottle was sat there innocuously. He forgot how hazy the medication made him at first. _Is he trying to keep himself docile?_  
“It's okay.” Waylon forced a smile and placed his hand on Eddie's thigh, giving a light squeeze. “We can do it, right? We got out of Mount Massive together, what's Murkoff, right?”  
Eddie huffed a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Of course darling.”

It was still light out when they pulled up, the garage had been left open for them to pull into. As they parked the door closed behind them, plunging them into darkness. He could hear the voices of his boys shouting excitedly that 'daddy was home'. He bit his lower lip and stopped himself from flinging himself out of the car. Waylon looked to Eddie who was rubbing his eyes, stretching as he braced himself for the inevitable shitstorm.  
“Go on. They've waited long enough.” Eddie yawned, nodding to the door to the kitchen.

Lisa and the children were a sight for sore eyes, he couldn't hug them tight enough to convey just how much he'd missed them. How everything came crashing back home, that his family were okay, that his life was still intact. He kissed his boys on the forehead over and over, despite them making playful disgusted noises. Lisa was holding back her own tears, but the moisture she kept blinking away didn't go unnoticed.  
“You're an idiot Waylon.” She sighed, feigning frustration.  
“A lucky idiot.” He reiterated, voice cracking as he looped his arm around her waist and held her close. He breathed deep, shuddering as he cried on her shoulder. “I missed you all so much. I thought I was never going to see you again. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry I just couldn't.”  
“Shh. You're home now. Everything's going to be okay.”  
Eddie hung back in the garage, lingering in the doorway and watched the exchange. His brows were dipped, not knowing how to break their bubble. No, they couldn't guarantee that everything _was_ going to be alright, all they could do was hope and do their best to keep their heads above water. They really had no idea. Keeping him in the asylum was despicable, but Eddie had to wonder if they knew the true extent that they'd go to. Jeremy Blaire was just one of many men who would tear the world down just to keep the secrets of what they'd been doing trapped inside those walls and die with it. All they could do was hope that they considered Miles to be the greater threat than them right now.  
“Dad, who's that? His face and hair is funny.” The smallest of the boys pointed at him, a plush toy otter hanging from his arm.  
Lisa looked up and almost jumped, covering her mouth as she looked at him. Eddie shifted uncomfortably before stepping forward, his head was dipped somewhat. _Appear smaller than you are. You're no threat, you need them too much to jeopardise this._  
“Ah--” Waylon wiped his eyes and sniffed. He crouched to pick up the boy and brought him over. “This Benji, is Eddie. Don't be rude. He's a friend of mine, we've helped each other.”  
“So... if you're Ash, then he's Cilan?”  
“Wait, which one's Cilan. Is he like Brock?” Waylon snorted, just about remembered the cartoons that his kids watched. He was fairly sure that was the one about the immortal ten year old who captured monsters. Really a better analogy would be something akin to Tom and Jerry.  
“No, dad. Cilan's the gym leader with green hair. The Pokemon connoisseur! He rates everyone's Pokemon and their relationship. He wears vests all the time.” Benji spoke like Waylon really should have known better.  
“So he's like Brock.”  
“Brock's lame, he can't get a date.”  
“Well...”  
“When was the last time you went on a date? The dating game isn't really my scene, too fickle, besides, I've been far too busy.” Eddie raised his brows, just daring Waylon to make a smart comment.  
“Yes, Waylon, when was the last time you went on a date?” Lisa muttered skirting past the boys to the fridge. Waylon laughed nervously and set Benji down. “Now that you're both here I can start dinner... Eddie, do you like anything in particular?”  
“I'll be more than happy with the taste of home cooked meals.” He put his hand up and offered what was clearly an attempt at a smile. Waylon had never seen him look so awkward. Normally he was capable of charming anyone, but Eddie seemed to have forgotten how to interact with people.. which probably wasn't too far from the truth. He wasn't used to normal people, as awful as that sounded. He fitted in better with those that knew they weren't like everyone else, he could be himself rather than pretending to be holding it together like everyone else. Lisa spared a glance at Eddie, giving him a once over and Waylon flinched internally. Eddie was stood stock still, shoulders tense and not sure where to place himself.  
“You can sit down, take a seat. Do you want something to drink?”  
“Thank you.” He couldn't find the chair quick enough, taking a deep breath as he sat down. “Water, would be fine, thank you.”

Eddie seemed to tune out for a while, escaping inside himself whilst he coped with the overwhelming new situation. He'd been bounced around asylums and prisons for going on what was probably fifteen years. This had to be a lot at once. He didn't relax, just glancing blankly between Lisa and Waylon as they spoke, not really listening but pretending to look like he was. The kitchen was already starting to smell like food, a rich tomato sauce with a sharp hint of spices.  
“Mister Eddie.” Max tugged at his shirt, almost making the man jolt. He looked down at him, their eyes locked and Max seemed to click that he wasn't quite like his mother and father. “Benji wants you to watch Pokemon with him. He says you would like Cilan.”  
“Max, I'm sure Eddie's tired-” Lisa soothed softly.  
“It's been a long few days.” Waylon offered, shooting Eddie a sympathetic look. “If you don't want to.”  
“No, it's quite alright. I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on. I think I can manage.” He let himself be guided out towards the front room by Max who looked over his shoulder at his parents. Lisa was sucking her lips, she'd stopped stirring the sauce she'd been making. Waylon looked to Lisa as she walked over to the kitchen door and gently closed it. Eddie heard the door close and he knew in that instant he didn't belong here. He'd longed for wedded bliss and domesticity, but this was too much. He didn't know the first thing to do, and all of a sudden he felt like he was trapped in the suffocating quiet of his parent's house. Kids were always smarter than they let on, Max had to have known his mother wasn't happy.

“Don't be upset, she's just really missed dad.” Max said, an oddly thoughtful look on his face as he lead Eddie by the hand. He still had a chubby face, Eddie placed him to be barely nine years old. Benji had to have been three or four years younger. Though to keep up with him he had to practically arch over himself. The boy was so small, granted Waylon and Lisa weren't the tallest of people he'd seen.  
“It's alright.” Eddie hummed lowly. “They need to talk, I don't think they need me around.”  
“How long are you gonna be staying with us?”  
“I don't know, it's.. a difficult situation.”  
“Mommy said that dad got mixed up with some bad people. Did they get you too?”  
“Yes, I suppose they did. I was there a lot longer.”  
“What do they do?”  
“They do very bad things to people who need help.” Eddie forced himself to reel his bitterness in. He couldn't tell Waylon's kids that he was a psychopathic killer that had tubes shoved into him and forced into a hypnotic state.  
“Did you need help or were you like dad?” Max was shrewd. Very shrewd, he had to get that from Lisa. The woman wasn't a fool, she knew full well what Murkoff pretended to be.  
“...They promised me that they'd help.” Max sat on the floor in front of the TV, Benji looked absolutely ecstatic that his father's new best friend wanted to watch cartoons with him.  
“And they didn't?”  
“Exactly the opposite. I don't think your mother would like it if I went into too much detail.”  
“Dad doesn't seem like dad. He seems a lot sadder.”  
Eddie's breath caught in the back of his through, hitching. Max was too smart to be babied, but Benji seemed blissfully ignorant as he giggled at the brightly coloured animals fighting over food, he clutched his stuffed toy tightly. “We didn't think we were going to get out.” he said quietly, glancing at Benji to make sure he wasn't paying attention. “I'm sure they'll tell you more about it later, for now it's still too soon for him to want to talk about it. He'll be distant for a while, but he'll come back. You've just got to be there for him when he's ready. That's all he needs.”  
Max gave a small nod, turning his attention to the tv, Benji was however blissfully ignorant. It was silly and childish, but it was something he didn't have to think too much about. Perhaps he could let himself doze off for a while?  
  


“You're going to disappear again, aren't you?” Lisa leant on the counter top, watching her husband slouch further and further. “Waylon we only just got you back-”  
“I may have dragged Murkoff, but they're not gone yet. I can't.. I can't relax, not after what happened.” Waylon winced, trying to avoid Lisa's gaze. “Eddie's right, if I stay here then I'm going to get you and the boys hurt.”  
“I know who he is Waylon.” Her tone was short and curt. “He may be playing all nice and innocent with you, but better bet he's gonna turn on you.”  
“Lisa, I know it looks bad, but he kept me alive.” He sucked his lips and fidgeted with his fingers. “If I hadn't helped him then I don't know what would have happened to me. I owe him my life.”  
“What does he want?”  
“He just wants to be away from Murkoff.”  
“He wants to be out in the world to shank more unsuspecting women.”  
“God, no, Lisa, Jesus. Do you have any idea what they were doing to people up there? They wanted people sicker. They used the mentally ill because they were the most vulnerable. Because no one would miss them. He's not.. He's done awful things, yes, I know it's still murder, but it's the why. He needs proper help, and once this is all done with I said I'd help him find it.”  
Lisa sighed, turning the heat down on the saucepan. It was typically Waylon, it was what she liked about him. How passionate he was about helping people, how unapologetically he cared. Of course this would have happened.  
“..Tell me about it, honey.” She finally conceded defeat. No matter how much she tried to protest there'd be no stopping him. She just had to hope that Eddie was really as trustworthy as he claimed he was.  
Waylon spoke for what felt like an age, there were points when Lisa had half a mind to go into the front room and haul Eddie out by his hair for the things he'd done, but when he spoke about Eddie's past she couldn't help but feel just a little bad about it. The Walrider sounded like something out of a bad sci-fi horror and she found herself questioning exactly what they'd put Waylon on. The way he explained it was coherent enough, but it was what the other patients were doing that made her head spin.  
“Miles stayed behind to.. I guess deal with what was left of the patients. I haven't heard from him since. But we turned over both the camcorders and the documents we found, the world's going to know what Murkoff did to those people... They're.. just not going to be happy.”  
Lisa didn't say anything, sucking on her teeth as she occupied herself by throwing in the seasoning. Simple, spaghetti bolognese. Still, it explained why Waylon now looked as though he was barely coping. It was like him on finals week all those years ago but worse. He hadn't slept, energy drinks sustained him, he didn't eat properly; when in the hell did he even have a decent meal since he left? He'd lost so much weight.  
“You do what you gotta do.” She put the pasta on and left it to simmer, sitting down opposite Waylon. “We'll put the sofa bed out for him. And you need to rest.” Waylon smirked bashfully. “I mean it, if you're going on the run you've got to get a good night's sleep.”  
“I've been trying. Mind's too active, though.” Lisa was taking it all surprisingly well, all things considered. Granted he'd left out how Eddie kept calling him darling and one of his personalities was absolutely smitten with him.  
“There's still some pills in the cabinet, might help tonight.”  
“I think being in my own bed will be enough. Besides, I'm still functioning.” He took Lisa's hands and nuzzled against them. “Just about. It's fine.”  
“Is the room on fire?”  
“It's fine, the room was on fire at Mount Massive, now it's just.. it's the aftermath. There's a whole lot of mess to deal with and I'm really wondering if it's worth it and if I shouldn't just have a nap.”  
“Have a nap tonight, then tackle it in the morning.” Lisa cupped his face and kissed his forehead. “I've missed you.”  
“I missed you too.” Waylon hummed lightly as he leant against Lisa's hands. Was he really this fickle? That he could tell Eddie he had feelings for him and then do a 180 and suddenly be lapping up Lisa's attention. He was a terrible person.

 

Dinner wasn't quiet, it never was in his house, thankfully their sons had grown out of playing with their food, but the excitement of having someone over was proving to be interesting to say the least. Eddie was taking it in his stride well at least, he smiled at all the right times and listened to what Max had to say when he loudly declared what he'd been taught at school that day. Waylon was in listening mode too, although that wasn't always so unusual, the kids were used to him being up at ungodly hours and having weird sleeping patterns which left Lisa praying they didn't inherit their father's nervous nature. Benji was indeed the more quiet out of the two, his fine hair had a coarse element to it which made it twist tightly like Lisa's. They both had Waylon's almond shaped eyes, but they had Lisa's button like nose and dimples. She carried herself with pride, that much was obvious, she was confident and shrewd, there was no lying to her. And yet her initial hostile glances were nowhere to be seen, she was polite with Eddie, if a little awkward. Still it was refreshing that none of them knew exactly what to say to one another even if it lead to the children carrying the conversation, a little embarrassing, but it was better than the heavier topics he'd covered with Waylon in the car.  
Their kitchen was a pastel mint colour, dark hardwood floors with matching cabinets with glass panes fitted in them. It was a beautiful home, expensive to say the least but from the necklace and bracelets Lisa wore, they'd earned it. Gradually he began to garner that Lisa worked with a local law firm who did a lot of pro-bono cases which led them to be known as something of a firm for the people rather than big businesses. He hadn't heard of them, but they were local heroes managing to drive a company out of the area after they'd been harassing homeowners and renters alike to the leave the area so they could put a factory in the neighbourhood's place. After seeing the way Murkoff worked, he'd believe it. Big company used to using money to get what they want gets told no and they start using underhanded methods. It was almost comical really, after Waylon told the story and looking at his wife that they ever thought they would have a chance in succeeding. After the children had finished their dinner Lisa took their plates and got them settled in the front room. She was diplomatic about it and didn't gloss over the situation, he had to hand it to her. “We need to talk some things over, adult's talk, it's not gonna be nice.” She left them with two tall glasses of milk and cookies, kissed them both and told them to knock if they needed anything at all. Established boundaries but still left wiggle room for them.  
Waylon liked strong people, but they had to be compassionate, a woman with a brain and a sharp tongue like Lisa wouldn't protect people if she didn't care. If she'd been more heartless then he could have seen her in Blaire's position... Eddie smirked and made a small noise as she returned to the kitchen, quietly pushing the door ajar. Waylon had grabbed their plates and put them away. His face had lit up with glee when he spotted a cheesecake pushed to the back of the fridge, he grabbed it out along with three forks and set it in the middle of the dining table for them.  
“Something wrong?” Lisa cocked a brow.  
“No, far from it.” Eddie shook his head, taking the fork Waylon handed him. “I was just thinking how I would have loved to see you run circles around the late Mr Blaire.”  
“Blaire..” She paused, mulling the name around her mouth as if testing the taste of it. “That sounds familiar..Wait, wasn't he the one who framed you, Way?” Waylon nodded and hummed, swallowing a mouthful. “Hah! The man was a chicken-shit” The word shit was hushed, worried that the boys in the other room might have heard. “You know, every time I got hold of him I could _hear_ the sweat rolling off his brow. Even if the place hadn't gone into meltdown I was so close to cracking them. They were good though, not a single paper trail for me to find, meticulous as hell, I'll tell ya that.”  
“Trust me, they'd been doing it for years. The files Waylon and Miles found would have made you sick to your stomach.”  
Lisa hummed lowly. “Waylon told me about you.” She helped herself to a forkful of the cheesecake, briefly breaking her gaze at the scarred man. “But Waylon's always been a bleeding heart, so I'm not really surprised.” She took a bite, maintaining eye contact and Eddie felt his skin crawl. This was it, this was the conversation he knew was going to happen inevitably but had never been able to brace himself for it. So many things he'd planned to say and yet now his throat felt parched and was unable to say a word. “What's your intentions? What do you want out of this?”  
“Safety in numbers. We manage each other well, he knows how to reel me in and I can calm him down if needs be.” He replied too quickly, almost giving away the fact he'd been thinking about this for too long. The smile he tried to offer felt forced and like he'd completely forgotten how smiles looked; it was more of a fear-filled grimace.  
“M'not gonna cut your balls off if that's what you're expecting.” She shot a glance to Waylon, his face turned scarlet. How could she have known? Did she expect nothing less from Waylon, or was it standard for him to get whisked off his feet by strangers? “But if you're gonna be travelling with him, he needs someone to take care of him.”  
“Lisa I can manage myself-”  
“If I'm not around you forget to eat, drink and sleep - you get too engrossed.” Lisa pointed her fork at Waylon accusingly. “And don't you try an' tell me you don't. Point is, I'm putting the father of my children's life in your hands, I want to know you're the right person for the job and you're going to take it seriously. He isn't your ticket out of the prison system. He isn't here to be an apologist for you, you want this chance to fix things you're gonna do it.”  
Eddie swallowed, finding himself unable to muster the strength to reach for another bite of cheesecake. This was.. all very sudden. From her tone he was half expecting her to pick up the phone and call 911, yet here she was, not quite staring him down, more gauging his reactions for little key reactions or words if he replied.  
“I want Murkoff to get what they deserve.” He replied almost like it was a mantra. “After everything they did to us, isn't this a cruel irony for them? For those they imprisoned and silenced to be the ones to cry out and drag them down to where they belong.”  
“Believe me, we're going to get our revenge, but the minute things get too hot to handle you two had _better_ bail.” She took another bite of the cheesecake and a hefty swig of her drink. “I don't care how important it is for you, I'm not having either of you playing the tragic hero. They've spilt enough blood. Sure, dying's dramatic, but it doesn't give you the chance to make things right. Just makes the body count go up and one less loose end for them to worry about. You're more trouble to them alive than six feet under, remember that.” She was protecting Waylon, Eddie could hardly fault her for that. She cared passionately, no half measures; no wonder Waylon was enchanted by her. “You lost your appetite or do you just enjoy watching a sad woman putting cheesecake away? C'mon don't make me eat this all.”  
A quick, guarded smirk played on her lips as she pushed the plate closer towards Eddie. It had to have been something akin to a peace-offering right? He offered her a small smile and took a forkful. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually even had cheesecake, but it was an odd texture even if it was pleasant.  
“You know, I always used to think cheesecake was made with cheese. I think that's why I avoided it for so long.” Waylon snorted.  
“...Waylon, baby I don't know how to break this to you..” Lisa's lips pursed, trying not to laugh.  
“You're eating whipped up cream cheese and flavouring on crushed biscuits.” Eddie blinked.  
“..This is _not_ cheese.” Waylon squinted at the half-demolished pudding. “No, that is not cheese. Cheese smells funny and is a weird off yellow colour.”  
“Alas, you've been living a lie all these years.” Lisa patted Waylon's forearm and helped herself to another forkful. “But if you're put off, then I'm sure Eddie would help me finish this.”  
“Of course, dear,” Eddie obliged, taking a large mouthful's worth nearly taking most of the cheesecake with him. “Can't let this go to waste, I can't remember the last time I _had_ dessert.”  
“You ate an entire birthday sundae at Idaho springs!” Waylon whined, trying to get his fork in only to have Lisa playfully wrestle it away with hers.  
“I'm making up for lost time.”  
“A man your age you're gonna get a spare tyre at the rate you're going.” He groaned, managing to get his fork detached from Lisa's and back at the platter.  
“Definitely no more cheesecake for you after that.” Eddie huffed, feigning offence and pulled the plate away. “Your husband is so rude, you know.”  
Lisa tsked loudly, wrapping her arms around Waylon's pulling him closer to her, that smirk had become a beaming smile. The banter was endearing and made him feel oddly welcomed into their fold. Waylon gave a half whine in protest but settled against her, letting Eddie devour the last of the dessert. After they finished the washing up, they joined the boys in the front room and watched a few films before they called it a night and all went to their respective rooms. It just made things feel more odd, like he was suddenly the strange family friend they'd known for years... He decided that he liked this. _This.. this will do nicely_.

 

The night was oddly peaceful, sleep was something Eddie was often at loggerheads with, usually a vicious cycle of tossing and turning. It was as though as soon as he closed his eyes he opened them and rolled over again. Sleep itself had engulfed him, beckoned him in with no real promise of dreams just a pleasant void of rest. Dreams were either one or the other, meaningless flittings that were nonsensical or just a total darkness and a feeling of dread, like something was going to catch him, it'd been relentlessly hunting him down. He never knew what it was that was hunting him in his dreams, he could speculate that it was a reference to his father and uncle, but the entity had shifted over the years. It'd never been the same since Mt. Massive, it had an age to it, something long forgotten and left it its devices and he just happened to be unlucky enough to stumble into its territory.  
_He opened his eyes, it was Waylon's front room and the dull morning sunlight was just starting to creep through a gap in the curtains. He was comfortable and didn't really want to move. He was so used to it being cold the minute he got out of the covers but the room felt warm, not stiflingly so, but it was tempting. Eddie groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows and clutched his head, it felt like he was hungover, perhaps he'd taken too many tranquillizers the night before to avoid any appearances from the Groom... though thinking about it, the Groom hadn't really emerged since the night they handed over the evidence to Viral Leaks. It was odd, but he found himself wondering what had happened to him, he knew he wasn't gone it'd never be that simple, but for now, he was just going to run with it. The carpet under his feet was pleasant, not quite shag but it was definitely longer fibers than standard weaves. He found himself drawn to explore the house, all the windows and curtains were open inviting a gentle breeze to filter through the house. Yet, despite the cheerful air about the place he couldn't find anyone. In the master bedroom, Lisa and Waylon were nowhere to be found, nor were Max and Benji in their room. He ran his index finger over his lips, the callouses rubbing against the tiny hairline breaks and cracks from where he was dehydrated, it should have been odd and yet he didn't think anything on it. But this could have been like what happened to Lani and Maggie, he insisted to himself. Still no sense of urgency washed over him. Something told him that this was fine. He headed back downstairs, ready to go to the kitchen when the there was a loud thud above him. There was a rattling, silence and then a dull thud muffled by grass. He blinked, feeling his stomach churn. It was worse when it happened again. He bolted to the window and looked outside. Bodies. It was raining bodies. Eddie paled, his hand covering his mouth. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, what was worse was something about them all looked familiar._  
He stepped onto the front lawn, shielding himself with his forearm as he approached the first body. It wasn't decayed, almost like it had been preserved perfectly at the point of death. It was his father. The second body at the side of the house was his uncle, although his body was far more gnarled than his father's corpse, like it'd been bludgeoned. The third body was what made him want to vomit. A familiar caved in skull, this had to have been some sort of sick joke. Gagging, he ran back into the house and slammed the door all he could do was watch helplessly as the bodies began falling faster and with less of a gap between them. The mutilations grow worse and more deliberate as he watched, realising that the last time he'd seen these forms they'd been strung up and stitched dangling from the gymnasium as a warning. This.. these were all the people  _ **he'd**_ _killed. He wanted to turn away, to open his eyes and forget about this dream, but something wouldn't let him. Amongst the falling corpses two men walked down the street towards the house. Both were familiar, one set his teeth on edge and the other felt like that bitter twisting dread that'd been haunting his dreams._  
They've found me... he muttered wordlessly to himself. He knew he'd spoken but he couldn't hear the words said.  
Down the footpath they strolled, one had messy unkempt brown hair, an unpleasant curl to his lip like he was perpetually smirking as though he knew something you didn't. A brown leather jacket, white shirt and messy jeans. His eyes were piercing, the whites of his eyes were black and his irises were yellow with predatory slits for pupils. Eddie approached the door and opened it, watching Miles guide the creature towards him.  
_**Miles, you can't let that thing in**_ _. He tried to say._ _ **You don't understand, it wants to kill me.**_ __  
_**No, you don't understand.**_ _Miles shook his head, stepping aside to let the stranger approach._  
It was almost identical to him in structure, broad shoulders and a barrel chest, fists clenched with determination. But his face was hidden by a grotesque mask, a partly cracked deer skull with an impressively large pair of antlers that seemed to go on forever. His feet were cloven and produced a thick gnarled stick with snapped offshoots, their patterning alike to the antlers of the mask.  
_**Why are you doing this to me?**_ _Eddie backed away, trying to close the door but the hinges had seized up._ _ **Miles, you're supposed to be helping us**_ __  
_**What do you think I'm doing?**_ _The journalist tilted his head and gave him an incredulous look as though Eddie's unwillingness to let them in was a hindrance._  
The horned entity stopped in front of Eddie, he could barely see anything under the mask, all he knew was he wanted to run. This was the creature he'd been fleeing from for the past five years, it was that feeling like something was compressing his chest all over again. The last time he'd felt it was when he'd been facing Miles once possessed by the Walrider. All he could describe it as was dread. The fear of what he was capable of. What did Miles have to do with this monster? What was their common link? The creature stared at him, tall and proud. If its leg joints worked like a humans then it would have dwarfed him, the thighs almost as thick as his waist made for long haul sprinting. Its reflexes were as fast and as vicious as a hurricane wind, it latched onto his throat and squeezed. Eddie gagged, he knew he should squirm and try to escape, but he felt resigned to this, this was his fate. A low growl emerged from under the mask and he watched it go back. The free hand reached up and pushed the mask further back up its head, revealing his own face. The creature looked almost identical to him, was this the Groom now? Was this what Murkoff had been trying to produce? There were no scars on his features, but they were sharper, his eyes narrowed.  
_**I'm giving you the means to help yourself**_ _. Miles leant against the wall, lighting up a cigarette and exhaling. The smoke didn't look real like he was watching an animated oriental painting the way it swirled and the thick lines around it.  
___**They're coming for you.**

 

Eddie shot up from the bed and heaved a deep breath, he was dizzy like he'd been holding his breath throughout the dream. Thankful he'd been given what was a loose on Waylon pair of pajama pants he darted to the bathroom. His chest felt like something had been sat on it, compressing it mercilessly. He flicked the light on and almost yelled at the mirror. Around his neck was the dull outline of where he'd been choked. It wasn't unheard of for dreams to be so vivid that the body would create bruising in response, even if it was incredibly rare cases. There was no way what he'd dreamed was real, he just needed to hold off on the medication more in future. A few deep breaths and he splashed his face with water and plodded back to the front room. Through the gap in the curtains he caught a glimpse of a black van, the windows blacked out.  
**They're coming for you**. The voice echoed and Eddie fell back, gracelessly colliding with the sofa, his chest hammering. He didn't understand what was happening. The voices he'd heard had never been so loud, just tiny malicious whispers, easy to tune out. “ _Shit_...” His hand trembled, as freaked out as the voice made him, he knew exactly what the van was. He shouldn't have had any way to tell, but he knew there were Murkoff employees sat monitoring the houses.  
Thankfully Lisa and Waylon had heard the commotion and were halfway down the stairs when they saw him. Eddie's body language twisted from doubled over in panic to freezing in place to slowly standing up, his fists clenched. Waylon's mouth dried, the apex predator stance; cool, composed and ready to cause hurt. His better judgement and memory told him that Eddie was the one in control, but it didn't feel like him. Was this... the third aspect of him he'd theorised existed?  
“Eddie.. are you okay?” Waylon called, putting himself between Eddie and Lisa. He approached slowly, carefully clocking his body language.  
“They're here.” He answered without turning to face them.  
Waylon left Lisa by the door to the kitchen and put his hand on Eddie's upper arm gently, grimacing when he watched the muscle flex under the touch. “Who's here, Eddie?”  
“Murkoff.” Eddie replied flatly, Waylon caught a glimpse of his face and did a double take. The wounds had faded greatly, leaving just traces of thick dark scars. “Look, they've tapped the houses, they're monitoring the house across the street from us. We have enough time to get dressed and gather supplies.”  
“Shit, we were so careful..” Waylon chewed his lip and reached for Lisa, “ Người yêu, can you get some snacks put together for us? We're going to have to fly.”  
Lisa nodded dumbly, her expression taut as she propped the kitchen door open and grabbed one of the cool bags. Crisps, drinks, cookies, leftovers anything that she could grab. No sooner had Waylon been returned to her was she going to have to let him go, she hated this, hated how hard they were going to have to struggle with this one. He probably wasn't even going to get a chance to say goodbye to the boys unless she made him. She looked over her shoulder and watched as Eddie simply pulled the clothes he'd worn the day before and Waylon darted back upstairs.  
“I'm sorry. It's not fair on you or the children.” Eddie was crouched by the music stand, apparently studying the collection they'd gathered.  
“...It's not fair on you either. Living on the run's no life anyone should have to endure.”  
“The footage should be spreading by today, it makes sense they've stepped up their search. Content like that doesn't just suddenly get attention overnight.” He got to his feet and rolled up the shirt sleeves, he didn't bother to put the jacket on, it probably would have just gotten in the way. “No doubt it's going to come up on your radar, so when you do give into the urge to watch it, remember that we had been living in hell for years. It was five for me, but some of us it'd been longer. When you're faced with a place like that, you learn ways to survive, losing your humanity is the easiest way to stay alive. It all became a game of who could become the scariest monster.”  
“...I'll try to remember that. Waylon told me about how you met...” She paused, debating whether to carry on the train of thought, perhaps it was just better to leave it at the implication that she knew everything. “Waylon also said you did nothing but complain about the music. There's a draw under the CDs, it's got an iPod we use for road trips and a cable. Waylon'll set it up for you, it's got just about everything on there.”  
“...Thank you.” Eddie was hit by the overwhelming notion that Lisa was aware of Waylon's feelings. It didn't feel like a triumph, it just made him ashamed. He fished through the drawer and took a hold of the contraption, looking at it a little bewildered. Being stuck in Mount Massive didn't exactly lend itself to being aware of the latest upgrades in technology. “I'll make sure that he calls when we get to safety, you deserve that at the very least.”  
Lisa zipped up the food bag and stepped back into the front room, beelining towards the tall chest of drawers. “Here,” She put the keys into Eddie's hand and closed his palm around it. “We've got a lodge, well, it was my parents' but they gave it to us as a wedding present. We go there every summer. It's a lot of work up there, but it's self-sustainable if you work at it. Never had any mail delivered up there, so it's pretty off the grid.” Eddie nodded solemnly and pocketed the key. “Even though Waylon told me everything.. he never said why you're doing this, what's your stake in making sure he's safe?”  
“He's never given up on me.” He answered in an almost dreamlike way. “No one's ever done that for me before.”  
“Waylon does have something of a stubborn caring nature.” Lisa sighed, her brows dipping. “I'm not a fool, I know what he's like when he's not telling me something. The way he looks at you-”  
“You're his wife, I'm not going to come between you two. As long as I can be by him, that's good enough for me.”  
Waylon hammered down the stairs, panting with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Lisa and Eddie jolted as if they'd been caught gossiping, hoping that Waylon hadn't heard their conversation. “I've got everything I need... Are we good to go?”  
“You said goodbye to the boys?” Lisa put her hands on her hips, a brow raised.  
“Yeah, thankfully they're too tired to start crying. Max told me to kick their ass, I don't think you're as quiet when you swear as you think you are.” He huffed a laugh, grabbing the laptop bag he'd dumped the night before by the foot of the stairs. “Eddie?”  
“We need a distraction if they see a car pull out whilst they're out there they'll know.”  
“I've got this, you start packing the jeep.” Lisa grabbed her coat and threw it over her pajamas, slipping her feet into some pumps. Waylon blinked at her before Eddie beckoned him towards the garage. “Go. Trust me.”

The front door slammed behind her and the two hauled into the garage. Waylon set his equipment into the backseat and began patting himself down for the keys. “...Shit.. shit where did I leave them?” He looked up and saw Eddie settled in the driver's seat, adjusting it just how he liked it. “Eddie! No, you can't-”  
“Have you ever tried to outrun someone whilst driving?” His tone was deadpan, brow hiked up. A raised voice that was muffled by the garage door began shouting followed by a loud thumping. “Our distraction's in play. Get in, she can only buy us so much time.”  
Waylon groaned, rubbing at his scalp as it tingled. There was a reason he liked to be the one to drive was because he usually found himself suffering motion sickness, probably because he wasn't used to being driven. But with the state that Eddie was in, he didn't particularly want to argue. He punched the switch on the garage door and it creaked as it slowly began to open, flooding the area with morning sunlight. He hadn't even stopped to see what time it was, the digital clock in the car flashing at him that it was indeed an ungodly hour, it'd only just turned 7am. Still, at least he'd slept better than he had been over the past few days. Eddie wordlessly handed the iPod to Waylon and revved up the engine. In his mind's eye, rather than seeing the cul-de-sac of the neighbourhood he was looking out across the thick rolling fields he'd learned to drive in. His father told him that he drove like a maniac, never mind that he'd probably been trying to kill him or give him whiplash whilst making the clutch scream out for mercy. He'd improved gradually, but the urge to put the peddle to the metal was never far in the back of his mind. In all honesty, he'd never actually been on a high speed chase to escape the cops, but Waylon didn't need to know that; Waylon panicked too much, if he saw a group of squad cars or militia vehicles following him he'd probably make a fatal mistake. All he needed to do was hold on and put his faith in him.  
“Eddie..” The garage doors were wide open, Lisa had managed to get one of the Murkoff employees to roll the window down so she could lay into him, barking questions about what had happened to her husband and if they had a statement about the footage of Mount Massive that had appeared on the internet. It didn't take long for the neighbours to emerge from the houses, mothers holding their children back by the front door and husbands approaching the van, joining in the bombardment of questions. The Park family may not have been back in their neighbourhood for long, but they hadn't forgotten what they'd done for them.  
“Hold on.” Eddie turned the radio system on and was met with loud guitars and a strong imposing drum rhythm, a country singer singing a powerful ballad about the economical state of the world and how restless the kids had become since the government sold off all the labour jobs to other countries for a quick buck. The noise seemed to alert some of the crowd that'd gathered outside and pushed the rest of the gaggle away from the garage doors. He revved the engine again, growing louder and louder until he released the handbrake. The engine roared and the tyres screeched against the concrete floor, jettisoning the jeep from the confines of the garage and straight past the Murkoff van all that was left of them within a split second was the stench of burning rubber and the thick black tyre marks of Eddie's nigh perfect burnout start.  
Lisa howled as the man in the monitoring van pushed her away and rolled the window up, announcing to the militia that they'd spotted the suspects leaving the property. Still the people stood in the way, blocking their attempts to leave, it didn't take long for things to be thrown at the van breaking the pristine black paint job.  
“These people are the ones who will bug your homes to monitor everything you're doing, they'll silence anyone who dares to speak out about the truth, they'll kidnap your loved ones, they'll try to silence you by taking everything you hold dear” Lisa howled to the crowd, clenching her fist and pumping it up. “Their name is Murkoff! And they abuse and manipulate the most vulnerable and forgotten in society to conduct inhumane experiments weapons of war! No more! No more experiments! No more lies! We demand transparency!”  
The crowd joined in the chant, one of the younger residents had pulled out his phone and was recording the ordeal, just like Lisa had hoped. It'd been too long since she'd last been at a protest rally, but the fire had never died in her, she just needed a new goal to target her passion. Murkoff had painted a nice and neat target on itself.  
The driver blared the horn and began edging forwards, forcing people to move away as they made for their pursuit of Eddie and Waylon, Lisa shouted for people to get out of the way, they'd given them a good enough of a head start and after the commotion there'd no doubt be a local newsgroup wanting to get the scoop on what had happened. The ball was finally in motion.

**A child was born in Bethlehem,**  
**The son of a steelworker union man.**  
**He grew up tall and he grew up strong,**  
**And when he came of age,**  
**All the steel was gone.**

Waylon could feel himself turning pale. He gripped the bar on the door in a white-knuckle grip, the other hand held onto the side of his seat, the seatbelt fastened as tight as he could stand it. _Shitting hell I wish I'd strapped my equipment down now..shit I'm going to be sick.._ Behind them, it was becoming apparent that Murkoff's militia was zoning in on them, what had been one truck behind them soon became another and what looked like a muscle car made for these kinds of high-speed chases, was that kind of thing even legal? Who gave these people this kind of permission? Waylon looked behind them and felt his stomach lurch. Eddie banked around the corner a little hard, he heard the tyres screech, again another thick black line on the road.  
“The lodge- it's urgh.” Waylon hiccuped as the jeep jumped over a small hill. “It's in the Rio Grande National Forest.. It's sign posted-- ngh- try and get to the US-285 S.”  
“Right now-” Eddie swerved, narrowly avoiding crashing into the back of another car and overtook them. “I'm gonna lose through the mountains. Their signals won't be as strong.”  
Sirens were growing louder and hard to ignore just about audible over the nigh-deafening ballad that was blasting through the speakers though it didn't seem to phase Eddie in the slightest. He was completely blinkered, focusing only on losing them through the mess he'd create in the traffic. Cars veered to avoid the oncoming hurricane that was Eddie's driving causing more and more clutter around the area making it increasingly difficult for the militia trucks to not just barrel straight through them, Eddie knew very well if they started doing that they'd out themselves as the bad guys. He had them under his thumb. He felt almost completely euphoric, nigh untouchable. Waylon, on the other hand, didn't look like he was enjoying himself in the least, several times now he was fairly sure the engineer was going to lean out the window and empty his stomach. _Not long now darling, bear with me_. Eddie adjusted the mirror and saw the trail he was leading along and gave a vicious little smile.  
“I know I told you to hold on earlier, but you're going to want to again.” Dead ahead of them was a crossroad with traffic lights, the traffic below blissfully unaware of the shitstorm that was about to hit it.  
“Eddie, no we can't-”  
“Shh. Close your eyes if you're that scared. This will be the easiest way to lose them.”

  
  
**A reckless kid wants to use his hands,**  
**He's got a real quick trigger and some new demands.**  
**He grew so fast, and he grew so free,**  
**And when he comes around, he finds there's no more steel.**  
  
**So shaken,**  
**to his knees,**  
**He's got the same old rocket and a new disease.**  
**And he won't take it,**  
**On his neck,**  
**He's got the red hot whiskey,**  
**He's got no respect.**

  
  
Waylon groaned, pulling his feet up on the seat and holding his knees to his chest, hugging them for dear life. This was the sort of thing that happened in action movies, not his boring pathetic existence... so much for Eddie saying to stick to the covert. A car horn blared next to them, a man leaning out the window and shaking his fist at them as they shot past and cut him off; the guy seemed to rethink this as the militia zoomed past. No doubt the militia had informed the local police of what was going on and wanted backup. Things just got very interesting. Eddie's heart hammered in his chest, if he made even the tiniest error in judgement then they'd be paste; he'd never felt more alive in years. Euphoric on adrenaline he accelerated more, veering through the oncoming traffic, the sound of tyres screeching to a break was harrowing watching as cars came to a halt where they'd been. Waylon looked out the backseat window and saw Eddie had more or less just created a barricade of traffic, thoroughly putting a damper on the militia's ability to follow them. But he'd be naïve to think that was all they were going to have to face. At the bottom of the hill there was a blockade of police cars, one had a loud speaker, telling the two to give themselves up peacefully. Behind the cars was a stream of cops with their pistols trained on their target.  
“Eddie, we've got to find another way around.” Waylon exhaled shakily, he'd never be able to show his face around town ever again. This was it, this was his social suicide all thanks to Eddie wanting to have a go at the action hero. Eddie bluntly shoot his head and turned the music up a notch louder. It was the same song that'd been playing since they left, how he knew or had the time to put it on repeat was beyond him.  
“This is a really good song.” Eddie commented absently as he slowed the car down at the lip of the hill. “What's it called?”  
“...Uh.. I think it's Bethlehem Steel..”  
“Catchy.” The music hit the musical bridge, the tones grew quiet, building up the tension and he revved the engine once more. “If these piggy fucks want to play chicken, let's show them how it's really done, shall we?”  
The guitars, piano and drums resumed with a crash as he released the handbrake, another slingshot like start as they flew down the hill towards the blockade, he had to have been pushing at least 90mph back there and he didn't show any signs of slowing down now. If Waylon hadn't have gone to the bathroom before they left then he'd have probably pissed himself twice that morning, silently he prayed to whatever cosmic force was out there that they'd survive the ordeal and live to tell the tale. Upon realising that Eddie had absolutely no intentions of stopping the officers began howling at one another to clear the path as quickly as they could; there was barely enough time for them to manage it as the jeep crashed through the middle of the blockade. The scraping of metal on metal was awful and made Waylon want to curl up even further everything felt like it had slowed down, all he could see was the sharp predatory smile plastered to Eddie's features as they sent the cars out of the way. The Boulder police department was in no way equipped to deal with a maniac like Eddie, let alone handle high speed chases. Reality hit him as Eddie let out a victorious roar, throwing his fist up and laughing, they were out of Boulder and on the road to Denver.  
“They'll be ready for us there-”  
“I know, aren't they going to be upset when we're not there? We're taking the long way around.” Another veer and Eddie pulled up a dirt track that wasn't sign posted engulfing them with the woodlands once more. The sirens carried on past the turn in straight towards the city ahead. They were safe for now.

**He wants gold,**  
**There's no more steel left in Bethlehem.**  
**Save our souls,**  
**Cos there's no more steel left in Bethlehem.**  
  
**You can put your faith in the government,**  
**But there's no more steel left in Bethlehem.**  
**Try to get them back, try for reckoning,**  
**But there's no more steel left in Bethlehem.**

 

“Go _one mile_ over the fucking speed limit and your intestines decide they just have to go in reverse!” Eddie groaned as he stepped out of the jeep. He had hoped that Waylon would have leant out the window, but no, apparently his lap was a much better target and easier to reach. He liked these jeans, they were clean and comfortable, but no, he had to spend a five-hour trip covered in Waylon's vomit. He was lucky that he had a strong stomach otherwise he might have had to return the favour. It didn't stop him from shuddering as he tried to wipe the semi-dried vomit from his lap to the floor. _You owe me_.  
“Where.. where in the hell did you learn to drive?” Waylon struggled to get out of the jeep without falling flat on his face. He was blanched and trembling. Some people just didn't handle adrenaline as well as others. He supported himself on the bonnet of the jeep as he tried to get to Eddie, suddenly all too aware of the fact they'd have to get the dents and scrapes to the paintwork fixed up before he could give the damn thing back to Miles in good conscience. Knowing Miles he'd probably be over the moon to know his jeep had been part of a high-speed car chase.  
“My family had a lot of empty space around the area. 'Best way to learn was to just throw me into the car and drive around the fields.” Eddie shrugged with a hint of a grimace. “No one else was around, no other traffic to worry about. It made sense.”  
“I think- you kept too many bad habits.”

Waylon staggered to the front door of the cabin, the exterior was typically rustic and picturesque for the area, it blended in with the scenery. Simple and back to basics. A clothes line hung from the lip of the gutter and was tied to a moss covered tree that went up as far as the eye could see. Inside it had a more modern look, not minimalist in the slightest. Bright walls, paintings and family photos pinned in clusters along the wall. A fireplace in the lounge that had a dining table in front of the open plan kitchen. There had to have been about four bedrooms, three bathrooms if you included the en suite. Under the table in the front room there were stacks of board and card games alike, they looked to be the kind that would ruin friendships forever if you got too engrossed in them. The only thing that seemed out of place was a telephone connection wire by the side of a desk facing a window, Waylon didn't seem to waste any time getting his laptop and onion router set up and running. Whilst Eddie brought in the food bag, the duffle bag full of clothes and anything else knocking around in the trunk he couldn't help but watch how intensely Waylon threw himself into it. This was the reason Murkoff hired him. As he came back to the front room he watched Waylon zip outside and start up the generator. The lights flickered into life almost in tune to the rattling of the generator outside. It felt a little sad in an odd way that he was so adamant to get online as quickly as possible, but that seemed to be the way people dealt with their problems now; go online and procrastinate for a while. What he was procrastinating by doing however was a completely different matter, the news headlines should have tipped him off. A small tinny voice followed by clips of the jeep speeding through Boulder made Waylon sink in the chair. Eddie shook his head and opted to clean himself off, the breather from one another might have done them both good, especially an introvert like Waylon.  
Within half an hour Eddie returned in clean clothes and with damp hair, Waylon hadn't budged an inch but he could recognise the voice coming from the laptop. At first, he thought it was another skype conversation with Lisa, but as he approached he could see the interview that had Waylon gnawing at his knuckles. Lisa was publically throwing Murkoff under the bus.  
“They wrongfully incarcerated my husband because he dared to speak out about inhumane experiments they were performing on people, and now they're hunting him down like some animal?” Lisa's lip curled. “Of course, I'm angry! There needs to be justice for all those people they had in there, Murkoff needs to answer for this!”  
“When we tried to get in contact with Murkoff for a statement they told us that the two seen fleeing the scene are dangerous, unstable and unpredictable for people to maintain a safe distance at all times. If they are sighted then to contact the local authorities.”  
Under the news article more and more comments appeared, some linking to the footage that Miles and Waylon had captured at Mount Massive and others using the now trending hashtags 'freeWaylonPark' and 'breakmurkoffsilence'. Already there were petitions appearing, more families of those who had had loved ones taken in at Mount Massive were starting to speak out. Most were elderly relatives who were desperate for their sick relatives to get help, Murkoff had promised them the help they needed at next to no costs to them, the deal had seemed too good to be true. Photo edits of the pictures Murkoff released of Waylon and Eddie had the word innocent plastered across them. Not all the comments were as forgiving as others, some dismissed people as conspiracy theorists, some claimed the videos were clearly edited and not real and others were probably trolls spouting the usual hateful nonsense for the sake of kicks.  
“..Murkoff's going to be digging up everything they can about us.” Eddie rubbed the nape of his neck. If they linked Waylon to him then there was no telling how they could discredit his case.  
“Shh.” Waylon gently patted Eddie's arm as he opened another interview. Lisa was stood with the kids on the drive, Max clinging to her side and Benji tucked under her arm.  
“Mrs Park, you said that your husband was wrongfully incarcerated, can you tell us anymore on this?”  
“The video evidence is available on the net. There's classified documents that are now free for the public to read. Once you've read it and seen all that, how is it so hard to believe that Waylon is innocent?”  
“What about the man he's travelling with? Gluskin was arrested fifteen years ago for the murder of three women and one nurse whilst he was staying in a halfway house.”  
“All that matters to me is that he's keeping my Waylon safe. He helped him escape Mount Massive when he found out what had happened to him. Doesn't that tell you a lot more about his character than the effects of his mental illness. You only need to read through the legal and medical documents about Mr Gluskin, which are already public record, that he was let down by a time when mental illness was stigmatised. He didn't receive the help he needed and because the system failed him, it failed those poor women.”  
Eddie winced, why was Lisa putting herself on the line for him? If anything, that statement was more damning for her than him, she was relying too heavily on her reputation.  
“Does it not bother you, that you were harbouring fugitives-”  
“Fugitives of _what_ exactly? I can find you the - _beep_ -ing document where the director of Mount Massive gave the orders to force Waylon into the asylum. You want me to read it to you? Because I'll tell the whole world Murkoff's dirty - _beep_ -ing laundry. How do you think they get away with it for so long? I'll tell you what it is: money and corrupt senators, I hope this exposes every single one of those useless-”  
The interview cut off showing the anchorman and woman adjusting their mics awkwardly.  
“More on this story as it unfolds..”

Waylon's mouth grew dry, perhaps he had the same concern that Eddie did, Lisa had painted a big target on herself. She had to have been hoping that if she made her voice loud enough that if they tried to silence it it'd be obvious it was them. Shit how did things get so messy?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There's so little I'm afraid of  
> When it comes to an end  
> But I can't leave you on your own  
> When your chaos turns to silence  
> And your enemy's your friend  
> I will roll away the stone
> 
> When the devils waiting  
> Down by the river calling out  
> I wanna be the one  
> To light up the dark in you  
> And when the flood is over  
> And all the love is pouring out  
> I wanna be the one  
> To light up the dark in you  
> Light up the dark in you  
> Light up the dark in you  
> Light, light up the dark in you  
> Light up the dark in you  
> Light up the dark in you  
> Light, light up the dark in you"  
> Light Up the Dark - Gabrielle Aplin
> 
>   
> I had this half-written for a while now, so I'm really glad I've managed to get to this point. From here on out the endgame's in sight \o/  
> Notes: 'người yêu' is Vietnamese for sweetheart
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	20. Tremble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon decides that he needs some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead.
> 
> "Hiding behind all of the walls  
> Running inside, locking the door  
> Nothing ahead  
> No one to hurt  
> You know you can't fall off the floor
> 
> I didn't look for you  
> I didn't ask for this  
> I didn't need you to pull me apart
> 
> I've been falling out of control  
> I think of you wherever I go  
> Oh, what did you do?  
> Oh, what did you do to me?  
> I've never felt so lonely alone  
> I didn't care 'til you came along  
> Oh, what did you do?  
> Oh, what did you do to me?  
> Oh, what did you do?  
> Oh, what did you do to me?"

There was a weight within Waylon. Having been on the road for quite some time with Eddie hadn't granted him much time to himself, and whilst he knew that it probably wasn't the best of times to act upon more base desires, it didn't stop him from taking advantage of Eddie spending the evening sat outside. He'd never gotten the chance to blow off the steam that'd built up after the night he'd made out with Eddie. Despite the situation, Waylon was glad he was still in somewhat familiar territory, even if it was off the radar, it was theirs and a little-known place. What made it more surprising was that it was Lisa's suggestion of all things. He told her what the man at Viral leaks had told her, Murkoff would make him pay. There was nowhere that would be able to keep Eddie safe either. He was now his responsibility. Her rackets she'd been making all across the news channels was all to distract Murkoff from the two of them, make them spread their resources even thinner by having to deal with the public outcry. It'd been nearly a week since they'd gotten to the lodge and already there had been protests outside of Murkoff's head office, thousands and thousands demanding the figures attached to their research. It reminded him of the good old days back in Berkley U, of course, Lisa would volunteer herself, she was an advocate for people power and anti-corruption; a corporation like Murkoff couldn't make itself anymore hated by her if they tried.  
  


He could hear the rhythm of Eddie chopping up the wood for the fire outside and for a brief moment he spared a glance out the window at him. He'd taken his shirt off, and whilst it wasn't technically anything Waylon hadn't seen before, he hadn't quite managed to get such a glimpse at the way his muscles shifted under the skin as he hacked the logs to pieces. There was immense power behind those swings and the wounds he'd sustained at the hands of Murkoff had since faded into paler ridges and bumps in his skin. Waylon had to wonder if the man was aware of the fact he was being watched, he was far too engrossed. But he'd always been that way. When he was fully engaged with something it was as though his vision was blinkered. Waylon wouldn't have considered himself to be having some sort of sexual awakening, he was old enough and skilled enough with the internet to have seen just about anything he could have wanted. He didn't feel himself grow hard like so many pornos would have you believe, he just felt a hunger. He'd been pushing the notion aside further and further the more time they'd spent together. Eddie genuinely cared about him and would do anything to protect him, they were allies in this twisted mess. This would have only made things more complicated. Eddie had spoken in passing about his own feelings, but he'd openly admitted that he couldn't trust himself. That Waylon shouldn't have had to deal with it, not when he had a family. He'd never heard his voice so strained as he had that night. Meeting them must have been the hardest thing. How cruel had he been without realising it. _As long as I can be by him, that's good enough for me._ He'd heard the exchange, which just made things even more complicated. Eddie had been diplomatic and passive, he didn't expect anything less. He just had to wonder when Lisa was going to finally crumble and talk to him about it.

He must have been staring out the window for a little too long, Eddie had momentarily stopped to have a swig of the water bottle by him. He was so obsessed with keeping up his physique, not that Waylon was complaining. One of them had to be the proverbial tank if it came to a fight. He'd taught him a few things, basics but enough to get him by. The man was a vicious fighter. _Don't you dare pay mind to anyone who calls these dirty fighting moves_ , Eddie had told him, _They're debilitating and give you time to escape,_  
He recalled those arms wrapped around him, holding him in the grip to escape. Eddie's chest had pounded and the memory brought a warmth through him. This was sick. He was taking advantage of a man who was ill.  
Eddie caught sight of him and half turned to face him. He blinked at Waylon, cocking his head, trying to discern if he was all there. There were times when Waylon could be distant, no doubt suffering some form of PTSD after everything Murkoff did to him. Stepping towards the window he lightly rapped on the glass, Waylon jolted and their eyes locked. He looked horrified at something. Eddie waved his hand over his own eyes, the other hand still holding firmly onto the axe, gesturing to ask if Waylon was all there.  
“I'm fine. Sorry.” Waylon opened the window and leant on the sill. “Deep space cadeting, you know?”  
“Yes, I'm familiar,” He replied albeit a little distracted with looking at him. His eyes were searching for an answer upon his features. “Perhaps you should lie down darling, you look awfully flush.”  
“Yeah.. I think I will.” His hand ran over his face, the difference in temperature was a welcome change compared the heat of his face. Even with the distance, he kept putting between them Eddie still called him darling so freely now. He had to wonder if it was Eddie finally resigning himself to his fate, letting Waylon know how precious he was to him without expecting him to return the feelings. Who did that to themselves? How could he just..  
“I'll wake you when I'm done. Take it easy.”

Although it was almost like Eddie had got his wish after all, the two of them together. He was devious, he knew that much, but he didn't suspect him of planning this entire debacle, perhaps that was him putting thoughts into his head. That might be giving him just too much credit. But a lie down sounded as though it'd be best, close his eyes and try to take his mind off the mess it was trying to fabricate.  
  
Self-control wasn't something Waylon was admittedly a champion of, thankfully his mind didn't produce any images to titillate, all he could think about was just how good it felt to finally get some form of relief. He held his breathing steady, albeit deep breaths that were a little shaky, but living in a college dorm for several years meant that you learnt how to be stealthy or go without. He worked his erection gently, always preferring to take it slower than just get it as quickly as possible. He preferred the art of teasing, his free hand lightly playing with his balls. The warmth that gradually built in the throb of his pulse was a welcome guest and soon he found his fingers brushing just below his sac. He sharply inhaled, legs jolting at the sensitivity, it wasn't an area he was especially familiar in playing with, only having given it a chance a couple of times before the kids came along. All he knew was all those times he did come from it left him feeling pleasantly exhausted and drained. It was as though each time after he'd come a hard reset button had been pressed on his anxiety. But his mind wouldn't stop going back to that encounter in the car... oh, how things could really have gone if Eddie hadn't panicked. He felt swimmy headed and relaxed, just what he needed.  
His index and middle finger pressed insistently at his perineum, rocking against the pressure. He knew he looked like a sight, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as he grew sorely tempted to fuck himself on his fingers, the pressure was fantastic. He took a steady breath letting his throbbing length go, already aching for the grip once more. He was overly sensitive, finding the sheets scratching just on that verge of pleasant and too much. His eyelids felt increasingly heavy, body howling for him to just finish himself off, but fuck it, he was going to treat himself. Rolling over he fished through his side draw and found a small travel sized tube of KY. Not the best but it was easy to swipe from his drawer at home. He coated his fingers with a liberal amount, spreading it around his hole. The coolness was a shock to the system, breathing deeply as he circled the entrance with his middle finger. He applied a second coating to his finger as he gently eased it inside himself angling his hand so he could partially rub the side of his thumb at his perineum, he exhaled heavily, rolling onto his front as he worked his hole, the excess of the lube he rubbed on his length finding the slickness more than welcome. He'd never quite grown completely accustomed to the sensation of being penetrated, finding that no matter how deep he managed to work his finger he couldn't quite hit the fabled 'sweet spot'. His index finger scooped an excess around his entrance up and began to work it in, groaning at the intrusion. It didn't burn, the heat was definitely strange and yet despite the oddness he still found himself backing up against his fingers, hand working himself at a quicker pace than beforehand. His muscles throbbed, the sheets rubbing against his balls as he jutted faster into his palm. It felt too good, he'd missed this more than he realised, trying to keep up with the rhythm his body demanded, fingers growing tired but he persisted on, pressing them in faster and rougher. He felt the rush building up, his heart pounding, erection twitching in his grip. Perhaps really he should have realised how blinkered he could be, he came with a silenced cry, each pump and thrust pushing him further over the edge, body trembling and shaking as he pressed back onto his fingers. He took in a shaky breath, removing his fingers slowly from himself, perhaps he'd over done it, but he felt relieved. He groaned and put his arms under his pillow, letting its softness welcome him in. He wet his lips and glanced to the door... he was pretty sure he'd left it shut. _I'll wake you when I'm done_.  
Waylon's eyes grew wide in horror, starting to realise exactly what had probably happened. His body pulsated at the exertion, pulse jumping once more as he realised that Eddie probably walked in on him coming all over his hand. He swallowed harshly and pulled his underwear and jeans back on, albeit hesitantly. Really he just wanted to fall asleep and pretend it hadn't happened. The speed that he got up at left him dizzy and wishing he'd allow himself a sit-down, but that wasn't exactly an option at the moment.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, Waylon stepped into the lounge. Eddie was sat on a sofa, leant forward, elbows on his thighs and his hands placed in front of his face. As he walked around he could see the man biting on the middle knuckle of his index fingers. His shirt had been pulled on, probably hastily, the sweat still a residue on his brow and the nape of his neck.  
“Sorry I uh-” Waylon almost held his breath, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth as he found himself unable to look at Eddie. The man tensed slightly at the sound of his voice, but he didn't move. He wasn't heaving for air like he normally did when he was angry or upset, he just seemed to sort of stop functioning. Waylon caught his glance for a split second before redness tinged the tips of his ears.  
“It's fine.” He replied quickly. “Totally natural. You haven't had time to yourself. I should have knocked.”  
Waylon looked to the small recliner chair and sat on the edge of the seat, leaning to try and get a better look at the man. He was just staring at a spot on the coffee table, and now that he looked at it, doing a real job of trying to calm himself down. Every so often the man would close his eyes and slowly open them, sighing just a little. He felt guilty about letting his eyes wander, but he could hardly divert his eyes when he spotted why he was hunched over in such concentration. The front of his slacks were clearly tented. Those and his underwear probably about the only thing keeping his erection in check. Of course it'd be somewhat traumatising for him, especially after all he'd gone through, everything he'd suffered at the hands of his father, looking at another man and getting an erection was probably the last thing he needed.  
“Eddie-”  
“Would you give me a moment. Please, darling, that's all I need.”  
“It's alri-”  
“I don't trust myself around you right now. Could you please start making dinner. I need time to collect myself.”  
Waylon's lips pursed, nodding with a small noise and disappearing to the kitchen area. Jacket potatoes, veg and some steaks, that'd be fine right? He found himself repeatedly glancing over to Eddie, desperate to see if he'd moved or had relaxed somewhat. He didn't know what to expect. Tears, anger, the reappearance of the Groom in full swing. The man he had now was something of a fragile reassembly of the true Eddie Gluskin, cold, distant, skittish and calculating and The Groom, polite, charming, disgustingly strong, humble and able to talk his way out of anything. Still, he'd never been the same since the morning they'd had to leave the house in a hurry. His shouting in his sleep had woken them up and Waylon had decided it was probably just nightmares, the attitude afterwards was the bizarre thing. Since they got to the cabin Eddie had taken up hunting their dinner some nights, first it was a couple of rabbits he'd caught in a snare; it was the fully grown buck that he dragged in by the antlers that had made his skin crawl. Venison was great, but bucks were terrifying when cornered, how in the hell did he manage to take it down on his own without a knife or a gun? Still.. at least there wasn't any buckshot in it and the freezer was now filled with venison meat for later. All he could hear was the roaring of the fire and the ticking of the timer, he'd become focused on cleaning the kitchen, even if it didn't need it. Something to keep him occupied and away from Eddie.

“Please forgive me.”  
Arms wrapped themselves around his waist and pulled him close. The scent of Eddie was strong, amplified by the sweat he'd shed earlier over the firewood. He bit at the back of Waylon's neck, whispering in his ear, nipping and licking the lobe before he lightly flicked his tongue in the shell of his ear, exhaling deeply. He felt that warmth he'd had earlier rush over him, throbbing internally. Waylon's breath hitched as he felt Eddie grind against him, all he could do to brace himself was place his hands firmly on the counter. His nails raked against the tiles, spreading his legs just enough to feel the warm bulge pressing at his abused hole.  
“F-fuck.” Waylon whimpered, Eddie's hands worming under his shirt, teasing his flesh. As much as Eddie may have tried to apologise, his darling pressed back against him, goading him, begging him to keep going. Both knew that perhaps this wasn't going to end well for either party, but they were just a little too far gone by this point to stop and give a damn. Eddie's hands worked on Waylon's jeans, dragging them and his underwear down in one go. Handy that he'd already prepared himself for him, though courtesy dictated he'd let him warm up again. Eddie let go of his darling and produced an already somewhat used tube of familiar lube and coated his index and middle fingers, pressing both against his demanding opening. The dried lube from before reacted with the new and grew slick once more, sending shivers up Waylon's spine. He gripped the counter harder, arching his back to ease Eddie's access, the man curling his index finger deep inside him. He was already half hard, the grinding rousing his libido. Despite how clumsily he worked him, Eddie knew what he was doing, not that he wanted to think about those implications. His hot breath on his neck, littered with kisses and sighs was all he needed. The second finger worked its way in, scissoring and stretching him further. It felt bizarre, but still just as pleasant as when he'd fucked himself on his fingers, the promise of something larger going in half arousing and half nerve racking. At least, with Eddie, he knew if he changed his mind, he could say. But he wanted to see it through. He heard the tube sput, Eddie had freed and coated his erection with a fairly liberal amount, his left hand spreading the lubricant. His fingers came together, pressing deeper inside Waylon and the man let out a ragged cry, his hips bucking as something inside him grew warm and pulsated like when he pressed at his perineum beforehand.  
“Are you ready?” Waylon gave a weak little moan, nodding.  
“Please.” Eddie withdrew his fingers, arching over Waylon's form and pressed kisses at his neck, something to distract him as he guided himself and entered the other slowly. He tried not to tense, really he did, but he felt like he was being split in half, all he could do was focus on breathing as he adjusted to the girth of his partner. Eddie's arms were around his waist once more, his right snaking lower, teasing the tip of his half-erect member, trying to coax it back to life. Waylon exhaled heavily, leaning back against the man, trying to touch the back of Eddie's neck with his left arm. “Move-- I'm ready”  
The older man gave something of a grunt as his hips snapped, slamming just that little too hard inside of him, Waylon howled, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. If Eddie was setting a brutal and unforgiving pace then he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out. Eddie hushed him, kissing the side of his neck further until he nipped at the curved angle of his jaw.  
“I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry... Please tell me you want this.” His voice had dipped an octave, a husk of the boom he knew he was capable of. Part of him was struggling with what was happening, Waylon knew that, but he welcomed his touch more than he realised he would.  
“Yeah, k-eep going.. Go slower if you can.”  
Eddie rumbled once more, hips working in time to the slow pump he gave Waylon's erection. It felt like in no time he had the man under him squirming as his hips bucked and he let out small whines.  
“Don't hide how much you're enjoying it.” Eddie's breath hitched. “Be honest.. I want to know.”  
His internal muscles had adapted to the intrusion, practically sucking him in further as the pace grew quicker and Waylon got louder. Eddie squeezed him tighter, pulled him closer until he could barely move, the snap of his hips growing harsher as he reached his own limit. If he didn't have the counter to lean against, then Waylon was fairly sure that he'd have been unable to hold his weight on his trembling legs, each jolt from Eddie made the muscles in his thighs twitch, hitting the same spot over and over again with unnatural precision.  
“Are you close?” Eddie breathed, nuzzling against the side of Waylon's head. The erratic pace Eddie had set said more about his state than Waylon's. His own erection was leaking into Eddie's hand and he was fairly sure it was probably making a mess on the floor. He nodded harshly and tried to form words, only able to muster a breathy sigh. “Good.”

Waylon's breath hitched as Eddie's lifted his left leg somewhat, allowing him to thrust deeper, the man behind him let out a low groan, face twisting as the beginning of his orgasm threatened. Waylon's second orgasm that day, hitting him harder than before forced a ragged cry from him. Everything inside of him throbbing and clamping down, Eddie wasn't soon behind, almost crushing him as he squeezed him close. The man gritted his teeth and pushed in once more to the tight slick heat before he shot his load, sighing as he finished up.  
There really was no coming back from this.

 

That night they used Waylon's bed. It was big enough for the two of them. It creaked wearily, the old iron frame and springs protesting as Waylon rode Eddie. Eddie held his hips tight, guiding him as his head rolled back, hips jutting hard and fast. Waylon's hands splayed on Eddie's abdomen, nails raking at the skin as his erection slapped between them. He kept crying out, each thrust threatening to send him over the edge once again. Both knew that they'd have to talk about this, but it was easier to just keep fucking and hope they'd fall asleep before sense overcame one of them enough to put a stop to it. Eddie came first, leaning up to hold onto him as he shot inside him once again. Waylon had never seen his expression quite so relaxed, his features perhaps not as harsh as he'd previously thought them. He flipped them, Waylon pressed onto his upper back as Eddie pile drove him, breaths ragged. How long had it really been since he'd done this? His fingers dug into his thighs, holding him up against the almighty force he was thrusting into him. Waylon pumped himself furiously, trying to wrap his legs around Eddie's back. He needed pressure and close again. Another silent cry and he spilt onto his hand, falling limp, trying desperately to catch his breath. Despite how rough he'd been, Eddie was gentle when he pulled out, panting himself as he brushed the sweat-sodden locks from Waylon's face. He was flushed but the expression on his face was that of someone realising just how far they'd gone.  
“I shouldn't..” His arms trembling as they tried to support himself above his darling. “Lisa-”  
“That's for me to worry about... I wanted this.” Waylon shifted closer to Eddie's hand next to him and nuzzled into his forearm. “I've wanted it.” The programmer's brows dipped, latching onto his partner's arm, holding it close. “I can't... Before we left, the night before, I spoke with her.. I'm not the man she married anymore. I don't know how to be him. I've seen too much-”  
“Then _talk_ to her.” There was a frustrated growl in his tone. “I'm not going to let you give up on your family in favour of _me_ of all people. They deserve better than that.”  
“They don't get it. They won't. The engine changes you, you know that.” He felt the corners of his eyes prickling, the afterglow starting to fade, already on the comedown. He didn't feel elated anymore, he felt cold.  
“You have a life to live Waylon. Once Murkoff is done with I'll leave.” His response was cold. He was shutting him out.  
“But what about you?”  
“Waylon, you don't understand that what it is we've just done is me taking advantage of you? Part of me regrets it and a part I don't ever want to release again doesn't. You aren't my bride to be. You're someone's husband and two beautiful children's father. I'm..” He paused expression tightening. “I'm just a bump in the road. We can take comfort together because we understand yes, but you've got so much more. I can't give you the happiness and fulfilment that they can. Don't throw what you have away for the sake of a tension breaking quick fuck.”  
“Eddie-”  
“I'll be in the spare room.” He sighed and grabbed his pillow, stepping off the bed. “Besides, just because you're the first person who hasn't died at my hands because I got carried away and fucked them doesn't mean there isn't a real possibility for it. You got lucky this time, can you really continue playing Russian roulette with me for the rest of your life? I know I can't stand the thought.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm in the dark  
> I'm such a mess  
> Wherever we are. here in this now  
> So look what you've done wasn't my fault  
> You'll see the worst if you stick around
> 
> I didn't look for you  
> I didn't ask for this  
> I didn't need you to  
> But I'm coming round to it
> 
> I've been falling out of control  
> I think of you wherever I go  
> Oh, what did you do?  
> Oh, what did you do?  
> I've never felt so lonely alone  
> I didn't care 'til you came along  
> Oh, what did you do?  
> Oh, what did you do to me?  
> Oh, what did you do?  
> Oh, what did you do to me?"  
> What Did You Do? - Gabrielle Aplin
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	21. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon confronts Eddie after days of silence between them and finds himself in over his head. Once the dust settles the two find themselves with a familiar fear they hadn't felt since the asylum and with it brings a dark harbinger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Drink the wine, my darling, you said  
> Take your time, consume all of it  
> But the roses were only to drain my inspiration  
> The promises were spoiled before they left your lips and...
> 
> I breathe you in again just to feel you  
> Underneath my skin, holding on to  
> The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison"

Being stuck together in the ass end of nowhere in such close confines was the absolute worst, Waylon concluded as he sipped on an ice tea. Eddie hadn't spoken a single word to him since the night before, he was in the middle of emailing Lisa back and forth, simple little check-ups, hearing exactly what progress she'd been making with the press. Somehow despite Waylon and Eddie being the ones to thrust Murkoff into the spotlight, their top opponent was her fury. No one else was better suited to the job, no one knew how to run circles around smug businessmen like she did... Miles would adore her on principle alone probably. He had no idea when Miles was going to reappear in their lives, ever so often he'd find his mind drifting and wondering. What could he have possibly been doing? Was he sniffing out other Murkoff facilities? Freeing other patients from their clasps?  
“Are you going out again?” Waylon saw Eddie shifting around by the coat rack and turned on the chair to look at him. Eddie didn't look up, his brows dipped in concentration. Obviously, it was taking a fair amount of self-control to stop him from replying or even acknowledging him. His mouth pulled into a frown. There was something cruel about ignoring the person you fucked two days ago. The first time they'd been intimate, at least Eddie had vaguely spoke to him, even if it was mostly shouting through his frustrations. Did they go too far? It was in the heat of the moment, they were both as much to blame as the other. His nails dug into the wood of the table, the silence was killing him. “Eddie, I miss you...”  
Eddie's shoulder's jumped, trying to pretend that he was fastening his boots but the distant gaze was enough to let him assume that his mind was wandering, had he even been taking his meds since that evening? Boundaries, that's what Eddie was all about and they had indeed stepped over it. He'd heard Eddie promising Lisa he wouldn't overstep the mark, but he should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Waylon sighed, perhaps louder than he would have liked and spun back to face the screen on his laptop. There was no point talking to a brick wall, what was that three-day rule? If he doesn't call three days after a date then he's expecting you to go chasing after you or something... it had to go both ways, though, Eddie already knew he was interested, for Christ's sake they were both interested, why was it so difficult for things to just fall into place? He felt like a child stubbornly trying to hammer a triangle through the square shape, it was only going to end badly whichever way it turned out. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe he should just leave it at what it was, the more he brought up his feelings the more Eddie struggled away... Unless that was what Eddie wanted him to do. The door closed behind Eddie and Waylon slammed his forehead on the desk and scratched his scalp, the tingling now almost unbearable.  
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

 

The woodlands around the cabin were unfamiliar, and yet Eddie seemed to be able to traverse them with little problem. His gut instincts were almost perfect each time. By the creek there was a warren fit to bursting point with rabbits, the deer were mostly left alone by human interference so they flourished, and the pheasants were so fat and idiotic he could walk right up to them. The forest had more than enough for him and Waylon to survive on. Instincts could only go so far, he knew that and yet he wasn't sure he wanted to delve too deeply into just where this sudden insight was coming from. As much as he tried to forget about the dream that morning he couldn't, constantly going back and trying desperately to remember even the smallest thing that would make everything make sense. Miles brought that monstrous version of himself to him, was he telling him to embrace it and accept it as part of him? Dreams were dreams, nothing more. He shook his head and continued deeper into the woodlands, Miles would be with them soon, he didn't know why there was just an inkling. But, after all of the commotion building now, there was little doubt that he'd have to reveal what he knew, it'd be unreasonable of him to expect them to keep pushing for action to be taken... Still, even with the evidence they did have it should have been enough, but Murkoff wasn't just any company. Perhaps he'd liken them to a hydra, cut one head off another would replace it... he huffed in amusement, probably giving them too much credit. It wouldn't be long until they found another facility or more survivors.

 

When Eddie returned to the cabin dusk was just settling in, once again behind him was the carcass of an animal ready and waiting for him to prepare it for the next week. There was something incredibly macabre about the skull from the last one he'd hunted hanging on the outside wall and Waylon gave himself a small mental note to take it down when they finally left because the last thing he wanted was it freaking him out when he next visited the lodge with the kids. He could hear a wet squelching as Eddie cut into it and pulled the innards out, of _course_ , he'd be perfectly fine with doing that, it wasn't like he'd been disemboweling people at the asylum. Being a city boy, Waylon wasn't really too thrilled about the prospect of the process even if it was necessary. _Hey, at least it's not you, right?_ It wasn't much of a comfort regardless.  
“When can I expect you to decide that you're going to talk to me again?” Waylon folded his arms, albeit more hunched than he would have liked to have been. He was supposed to be confronting him, now cowering away.  
“Is now the best time, darling?” Eddie looked up at him, his eyes didn't have the predatory gaze he was expecting, he wasn't lucid.. well that explained how he got the buck. The Groom was capable of a great many things, somehow tackling a fully grown stag and snapping its neck wasn't out of that expectation, no matter how mind-boggling it was. “I'm a little messy right now.” he gestured to his hands and the blood drying on his jacket. At least he wasn't hunting in shirts and waistcoats anymore.   
“No...” He muttered, as much as the Groom was right, he didn't want to acknowledge that just yet. “How is the silence not getting to you?”  
“I'm used to the silence.” He purred cheerfully before ripping its ribcage open. Waylon blanched, getting the handy little reminder that that could have indeed been him. “Are you getting lonely now, darling?”  
“Yeah.. I guess you could say that.” He swallowed hard, rubbing his upper arm, trying to not get himself worked up. Blood splattered and smiling, it was too much like the asylum.   
“Be patient for me, will you?” His tone was sickeningly sweet and Waylon couldn't believe his awful luck that he was stuck with the Groom of all people telling him it was understandable to be feeling lonely after the cold shoulder. “Once this is ready I'm all yours darling, don't you fret.”  
“...Can't wait.” Waylon rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, stepping back into the lodge. There were leftovers in the fridge from previous excursions he could make something out of. Absently he dumped the cutlets and bones into a deep pan and left them to bubble away in the water whilst he cut up the vegetables. Eddie had promised him at some point that he'd take him out hunting with him, it wasn't really that he liked the idea of hunting much, it was just an excuse to get to spend time with him. Shit, this was pathetic. He was outside and here he was sulking just because it wasn't his favourite Eddie. Groom or not, they were still the same person, he was just an aspect of him that was created to survive and he didn't seem to hate his guts. The last of the veg went into the pot and he set the lid on making sure it was on a low heat to simmer. He didn't typically cook, not much but Eddie hadn't been complaining thus far even if he was better at it. Imagining them stood in the kitchen, a glass of wine each with some quiet country singer playing in the background was just too idyllic for him to want to endure the thought, he was smitten and it was ridiculous. They didn't even like the same things... asides sewing and music what else did he really know about Eddie's hobbies or likes? It was such a basic concept that he'd completely overlooked it, they were close but by circumstance not from building a relationship, so closing that gap might be easier if he got to know him more. _You're a genius. Wow and dazzle your love interest by getting to know him properly, how fucking groundbreaking, give yourself a big fat fucking gold shiny star._ His palm connected to his face and he gave a low groan. He was a moron, no wonder Eddie wasn't talking to him.

“Mosquitos biting?” It was an innocuous enough question, because really as far as the Groom knew he'd just smacked his own face for no reason.   
“Just... having a bad day.” Waylon's shoulders sagged. “Been having a bad few days really..” He pinched a few strands of his hair between his thumb and forefinger. How long were his roots now? Bleaching his hair should have been the least of his concerns but it was just something so normal to him it might have helped. “Kinda my fault anyway.”  
“If I may be so bold, darling, but we did warn you.” Despite being covered in blood he stepped through to the kitchen and fished out zip lock bags. “Have you spoken to Lisa yet?” He dropped the chunks of flesh into the bags and Waylon couldn't help the way his stomach lurched.   
“..No..”  
“Despite saying you should? Darling, you don't make things easy on yourself do you?” The patronising smile wasn't necessary, but he knew he was right. You know what, that glass of wine sounded like a great idea. Waylon opened the cupboard by the fridge and fished out a bottle of red. It was supposed to be cooking wine, the good stuff was stashed in the shed but right now he didn't give much of a shit.   
“Yeah, cause telling her that I fucked you is going to go down _really well_ isn't it?” He bristled, pouring out a large glass. He bit his lip and winced. He hated it when the Groom stared at him like that; brows raised but his eyelids dropped in judgement. How did a man so stuck in his delusions have such a firm grasp on what was the sensible thing to do anyway? “...I'm sorry, it's not your fault... How do I even have that conversation?”  
“Hmm..” The Groom hummed thoughtfully, letting it become just a little too melodic to imply he was actually giving it any real thought, he was too transfixed on getting all the venison into the fridge. “Mmm-- _hm_.” He paused and shook his head. “She's no fool. Crass and vulgar as she may be, I doubt she's unaware. You know she asked me what my intentions for you were. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to be near you, but I think such a relationship requires honesty. Though,” He closed the fridge door abruptly, the wine in Waylon's glass swirling around the glass as he jolted. The Groom stepped just a little too close for comfort, pinning him against the counter top. “if I had _my_ way? We'd forget all about Lisa. She's useful, don't get me wrong, darling, she'd been a wonderful help but she's just too much of a bitch for my tastes. You can't be happy with such a domineering woman can you? It's almost unspeakable the way she talks down to you.”  
“Whoa, okay, hold up.” Waylon set the glass down and put his hand up between them. “This isn't a bitch about Lisa session okay, this is supposed to be you offering me advice.”  
“And my advice is that if you're pursuing me, then you must be unhappy with her in the first place. She tries, _bless her_ , but she just can't keep that potty mouth of hers in check for more than five minutes, it's a wonder your children aren't effing and blinding every other word as it is-”  
“ _Eddie_.” Waylon growled, the Groom wasn't taking any of his hints instead standing firmer in his way.   
“Besides, the way she's been going on about Murkoff I doubt she'll be alive for much longer for you to worry about anyway. She's running her mouth too much and very soon they'll get sick of it. I know _I_ would.”  
“ _Enough_.” His fist connected with the Groom's jaw which sent him reeling. It was almost as bad for Waylon, the man's jaw felt like it was lined with steel. His hand throbbed as he shook it. “ _Shit_.. Okay, this is on you as much as it is on me. You may be trying to run away from that, but face it. You fucked _me_ and you loved it. You can't handle the fact that you didn't kill me, you finally got to enjoy yourself and now you're beating yourself up and wondering what makes me different from Lani and Maggie, but I can't _tell you that_. I don't _know_. I was just lucky, right? That's what you said. Mental illness doesn't just suddenly go away because you're in love with someone.”  
“You ungrateful _slut_.” The Groom growled, his grip on the counter was all that had stopped him from falling back. _This guy took down a fully grown stag with his bare hands and you just went and fucking punched him? Good going Waylon, now maybe we'll get the proper girlfriend treatment from him._ The blood covering his chest and hands made everything seem that much more terrifying as he grabbed the front of Waylon's jumper. “After everything we've been through-”  
“You wouldn't accept anyone talking shit about me, why is it different with you talking about my damned _wife_?” The quiver in his facial muscles wasn't hidden at all, but the point was Eddie had always told him to establish boundaries with the Groom if this wasn't a time to do that then he didn't know when was.   
  
Unfortunately tonight was not a night when the Groom would back down because Waylon happened to show a bit of backbone. The first blow knocked the wind out of his lungs making him double over himself in a daze. _It's not supposed to go like this_. The second blow was with the Groom's knee catching him almost immediately as he drooped forwards, sending him back against the counter. His nose erupted blood as he hacked and coughed in an attempt to get air back into his lungs. _This is happening. This is really happening. Shit. Shit. I'm fucked. This is it._ The Groom reached forward and grabbed the collar of his shirt again, pulling him back in close enough to feel the heat of his breath.   
“You _started_ this fight, darling, don't tell me you've lost your nerve now?” He almost barked with laughter, cruel and venomous. “Come on, come on! Don't leave me hanging now. What's next? Can't handle a bit of rough love? Oh _darling_ , if only you knew. This is what it's going to be like, a little _love tap_ here and there, bit of concealer, after all we don't need the neighbours talking.”  
“This isn't you-” Waylon hacked, spraying his blood onto Eddie's features. He couldn't stand to see those lips curled into such a cruel expression. This wasn't the way he treated him, his Eddie was kind and compassionate. His Eddie had warm, gentle hands. He hated violence, he wanted to make beautiful things not bloody noses and kill.  
“You've admitted it yourself, you don't know anything about me. This is what _real_ passion is, seeing just how deep you can make each other bleed, how far you can twist the knife before your beloved cries out for mercy. I watched the best of the best for years, how they would tear one another to pieces and scream at each other because it just wasn't right to go to bed on such ill-feelings. _This is it darling. What did you ever expect this to ever be?! Why can't you just listen-_ ”  
“-You're not your father.”  
Waylon flinched as he expected another fist to connect to his face, but it didn't come.   
The vicious teeth were no longer bared and his grip faltered just long enough for Waylon to scramble out of his reach. Watching the emotions twist and try desperately to settle on something appropriate that expressed just what was going on in his head was a whole other sort of pain. No doubt, he'd make sure that Eddie paid for making him his personal punching bag, but something told him he was torturing himself enough over it. Good. Waylon took his glass and the bottle and left the man where he stood to settle down in front of his computer. Eddie wanted him to tell Lisa? Fine. He'd tell Lisa.

 

The sky had turned black, although Waylon was too engrossed in conversation to really have paid it much mind. Talking to Lisa about Eddie over instant messaging was easier than it was face to face, mostly because he didn't have to directly deal with the emotional fallout. Except there wasn't one. He'd been expecting her to tell him that it was over and he'd get to see the kids at weekends, but not a genuine conversation about analysing the _whys_ and _hows_ of it all. Lisa didn't seem to be short of questions but he could tell it was frustrating her how few of those questions he had clear answers for. He also decided it best to keep from her the nature of the punch up they'd had... Or perhaps he shouldn't, after all, she was an outside opinion.  
  
 _We had a fight today.  
_ **Oh? You were making it sound so picture perfect.  
** _It was about.. well us. All of us. Eddie doesn't want to come between us.  
_ **What happened?**  
 _You know I told you about how sometimes he's.. not quite him?  
_ **You mean the one that thought you were his bride to be?**  
 _How did you know?  
_ **Waylon, honey, I watched the files. So 'The Groom' got pissed off, nothing you haven't handled before.  
** _Yeah, I thought that until he punched me back._  
 **The fuck were you doing punching him in the first place?!**  
 _He was talking smack about you after he hadn't been talking to me for days, I guess I just snapped._  
 **You considered the reason he hit you back was because he thought he had to defend himself? Doesn't make it right or excuse it, but you did start it. In his mind, it's a logical jump.  
  
** There was a pause between messages and Waylon rubbed at his scalp frustratedly. Of course, it was a logical jump for him. Nothing about Eddie really made a consistent amount of sense, everything was just one impulse to the next. He looked at the wine he'd fully intended to drink, but had only gotten through the one glass. The bottle remained untouched.. probably for the best.  
 **  
Did he say anything?**  
 _He said he learned from the best, this was how romance was and why did I expect anything else.  
_ **I think you scared him.  
** _..You're probably right.  
Shit I didn't think about it like that.  
_ **Have you spoken since?  
** _No, he went outside after I sat down.  
_ **Have you cleaned yourself up?  
** _Not yet.  
_ **So you've been talking to me the entire time with a bloody nose?  
** _I.. It sounds bad when you say it like that.  
_ **Waylon, did you tell me all this just to spite Eddie?  
** _No!  
Shit I just.. I didn't know what to do, and before I couldn't rely on you to help or give me advice if I fucked up so I wasn't so reckless.  
_ **You're lucky I love you, asshole. And you're lucky he loves you too or he'd have probably run by now.  
** _Love you too. Kiss the boys for me, I'd better fix this._  
 **Yeah you will. <3**

Waylon turned the outside lights on and looked out the front, the bones of the deer had been disposed of leaving only a bloodstained trail that lead to the bracken. He wasn't sat in the car and thankfully it was still there, though Waylon had a feeling that if the car left he'd have heard it. That left the back of the house or hiding in one of the spare rooms. Lisa had told him to clean himself up, but finding Eddie was higher on his priorities. Once he used to find walking around the lodge in the darkness unnerving, he'd avoid it at every opportunity if he could or at least have a torch with him. Now he found the crunching of fallen leaves under his foot oddly comforting, the sound of trees knocking against one another in the wind wasn't ominous so much as it was something he accepted that happened. After surviving Mount Massive, it seemed like nothing. He'd heard what his new soundtrack of terror was and it wasn't the night song of the forest. He heard rustling to the left of him, further in the underbrush and despite the fact he knew his skin should be crawling and perhaps should have just gone to the yard through the house, he wanted to be thorough. Woodland animals are more afraid of you than them, right? He carried on until he reached the back yard. Eddie was draped over the swing bench, his arms held up over the back of the seat, head draped back. Normally he would have at least looked up, but he seemed engrossed in whatever it was he was doing, even if as he got closer Waylon realised he had the road trip iPod and had headphones on. Listening to music loudly was what helped him wind down, helped him drown everything out.  
“- _Can I trust you? But I don't want to. I will swallow, if it will help my sea level go down. But I'll come back to haunt you if I drown._ ” He could have barely been listening to half of the songs on there for a week and already he'd picked out his favourites. His singing wasn't awful when he wasn't strolling around for his prey and the speech impediment wasn't anywhere to be seen. Those scars across his mouth had healed allowing him full use once again. “ _Will it hurt? No it won't. Then what am I so afraid of? Filthy Victorians, they made me what I'm made of. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. I don't need a minder, I've made up my mind. Go awaay~. Twenty years, sinking slowly. But can I trust you? But I don't want to._ ”  
  
“Eddie?” Waylon approached slowly, just to make sure he didn't make him jump, although it was apparent the music was a little loud to be able to hear him. Even stood two and a half feet away he could hear the music, even if it was muffled. “Eddie?” He waved his hand and tried to catch his sight. _Guess I'm going to have to make him jump._ He took a seat next to the man and as expected Eddie jolted to the other end of the seat, his heart hammering in his chest and the music suddenly that little bit too loud.   
Eddie swallowed thickly, pausing the iPod and pulling the headphones off. He didn't want to look at Waylon, although that may have had something to do with his handiwork dried and plastered to Waylon's face. It was an awkward silence for a moment or two, neither really sure what to say to break the ice. Waylon didn't know how to start to make it right, stubbornly he didn't want to be the first to apologise despite being the one who took it to blows. It felt like they were kids in a school yard, Eddie had pulled the proverbial pigtails because that was 'what boys were supposed to do to girls they liked' but instead of crying Waylon had hit him right back; for all the Groom's big talking and eloquence he lacked the logic capabilities to back it up. Eddie traced his thumbnail between his teeth, letting out a barely audible noise.  
  
“I shouldn't have lashed out at you.” Waylon sighed, leaning against Eddie. He closed his eyes, expecting the other to get up and walk away, he wouldn't have blamed him. Instead a hand came to rest on his side, pulling him a little closer. It was the warm gentle hands he remembered. These were Eddie's hands, not the monster born from his past.  
“The first time I saw them fighting that I can remember, I think I was six.” Eddie didn't acknowledge Waylon's apology, perhaps he didn't believe that he was at fault. “They'd been shouting at each other for hours, it was when my father announced that his dead-beat brother would be moving in because his wife had left him and taken everything. My father never liked my aunt, she was a lot like Lisa, she spoke her mind. I think the only reason my uncle got married to her was for the sex.” He shuddered. “My mother knew my uncle was human-trash. She told him that if my uncle moved in then she'd take me as far away as she could get. He didn't like that. I was stood halfway down the stairs and I watched as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and just.. just fucking _swung her_. She was screaming so loud. I didn't understand why he was doing it, it wasn't a game because my mother was crying so much. He used her momentum to throw her to the floor and he pulled out the hair he'd been grabbing, shouting in her face. He only stopped because I was crying and shouted at him. He pulled my mother onto the couch and kept assuring me that it was alright, that he was sorry and it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't scared him so much.”   
“Blamed her for his temper...”  
“From then on whenever they fought, it was presented as a normal thing. He'd beat her black and blue and then the following day would get her something to say sorry. It was such mixed messages. If you hurt someone you make it right and you apologise, but if they spoke out of line then they deserved it... By the time my uncle had moved in it was too late.” The resignation in his tone was tangible, he couldn't look at Waylon, knowing full well how full of pity his eyes would be. He didn't want pity, he didn't want Waylon to bring his apologies. It was his fault. He should have taken his medication that day, let alone not let their feelings fester for so long. “He brought out the worst in my father. Now I look back on it, things had never been perfect with my parents anyway, but it was just little things. They'd only married because he'd knocked her up and that was what you did back then... My uncle was sack of hammers crazy with a list of kinks that went on as far as the day is long. He wanted to try everything, nothing was off limits to him and he knew his brother liked the power trip as much as he did. At first I didn't.. I didn't realise that they were doing such vulgar things. We were playing games. Then the games started to hurt.” There was a long pause as he cleared his throat. If Waylon could see better in the light they had, he might have sworn he'd seen tears, not that Eddie would openly admit it. “Bruises and injuries got harder to explain, at first my mother didn't know what was going on. They weren't awful bruises and were no different to the scuffs children got from being children. It was when I started to get techy about bathtime she got worried. She saw them and took me to the local clinic. There wasn't a women's shelter for miles and no one believed her anyway. My father caught wind of it and started blaming her, saying she was hurting me because she liked the doctor's attention. Called her a cheap slut for it. I wonder if he began to believe his own lies after a while. That this was what families did, that all he did was _normal_. They were such creeps, I don't know how anyone in the town liked them.”  
“It's how abusers work.” Waylon nuzzled into Eddie's shoulder. “They make everyone love them so they don't get suspicious. Lisa's helped a lot of people like that, men, women, children with abusive parents. It's a gross cycle.. They're vicious if you out them.”  
“They were the handymen of the town, always helped the little old ladies who'd lost their husbands and their sons weren't around.. really made themselves out to be saints. My mother got branded as a hysterical woman. The doctors said she had Munchausen syndrome in the end... Even though my father taught me to undermine a woman's opinion and voice, she taught me to never under estimate just how far a mother would go to protect their children. It wasn't never going to end well.” He shook his head. “My only regret is it's taken me this long to start to try to fix the damage they did.”  
“No one gave you the chance, not properly.”  
“All the better for Murkoff.” His brow twitched as he huffed dismissively. “My point is no matter how much I apologise it's not going to change what I did. You shouldn't have to put up with this, you deserve better and you have better. You shouldn't have to spend your time walking on eggshells around me.”  
“Eddie, I know you didn't mean to. Yeah, I'm a little pissed off you hit me, but it was a symptomatic effect of your trauma.”  
“How long have you been rehearsing those big words?” Eddie couldn't help the smirk, he just needed something to distract Waylon. He'd said his part, he didn't know how to really make things better but no doubt Waylon had his own ideas.  
“Shit bag-” Waylon lilted jovially and gently smacked his chest. “-Hey”  
  
“Sh..” Eddie's eyes had blown, wide and alert as he stared into the darkness surrounding the lodge. He shifted to sit upright and look around the area. Waylon hadn't heard anything and wondered if Eddie was hallucinating after such a stressful evening, but as the older man's finger came to rest on Waylon's lips sure enough he heard another twig snap. It was closer, probably about twenty feet away from where they were. “Did you hear it that time?” Waylon nodded, his brows dipping in perfect unison with his skin crawling. It was that overwhelming dread he hadn't felt since they'd been at the asylum and he _knew_ it was the exact same brand because the minute Eddie went into startled animal mode was the moment he knew it was time to panic. The hand at his side gently coaxed him to his feet, Eddie's gaze was fixated in the bracken as he eased himself to his feet slowly. He didn't know what it was, but something in his gut was telling him to get away as quickly as possible, and whilst his instincts hadn't lead him stray just yet, the fact all he could think of was Frank's emaciated gaunt face made him question everything. _The last time I saw that thing I was hallucinating. But Waylon said he heard it too.. there's no such thing as shared psychosis_. Waylon didn't hang around, he opened the door to the lounge and dragged Eddie in after him by the hand. They slammed the door shut and locked it, suddenly thankful that they hadn't gone for the screen windows like the guy renovating the place had offered. It was probably nothing, and Eddie was just on edge after their fight but that nagging sensation just wouldn't let him be; it didn't look like it was leaving Eddie alone either.  
“...You know, I heard something walking around outside when I went looking for you.” Waylon clutched at his sides and gave an exaggerated shudder. “Uurgh, and here I thought it was just some wild animal in the underbrush. How could I have been so careless?”  
“I can't say what it is.” Eddie's eyes were narrowed as he squinted through the small decorative panel in the door. The glass was warped from the frosting and painting process so he could barely make out the back yard. There was always the window by the lounger but if he kept staring like some guard dog then it'd only make Waylon panic more. It was something he'd just have to leave be. “Whatever it is it's not come any closer. It's probably just a racoon looking for scraps.” He waved his hand as dismissively as he could muster, he was known as the compulsive liar after all, if he couldn't fool Waylon he'd have to give up the title... not that he'd really lose any sleep over it.  
“I'm still going to sleep with the light on.”   
Eddie shook his head and pulled his jacket off. Since moving to the lodge Eddie had taken up wearing shirts and thick knitted jumpers, just to add to the rustic look, it was just a shame that he always ended up tracking mud and god knew what else through the place. _Really making yourself at home_. Waylon spared a thought to whether this was how Eddie saw himself if he'd married and settled down, lived in a small town surrounded by nature or whether he'd be more content with faster city life; though the way he'd taken to hunting and maintaining the lodge he was probably better acquainted with the former.

The rest of the night was quiet, they tucked into the stew with little mind paid to the disturbance outside and for a while, they even forgot about it. Go fish was a pain when you had two players, especially one that obsessively categorised everything and Eddie was wiping the floor with Waylon repeatedly.  
“You're too honest. Always dedicate one suit to be your throwaway.” Eddie laughed, the seven matched suits in front of him mocked Waylon's two. He leant a little closer just to be extra smug and pointed at each of the cards in Waylon's hands. “Otherwise, you just make it easy to work out what cards you have. For example, you've been asking for threes since the start, fives and the aces. You've got six cards in your hand. I don't have any threes so it's got to be left in the pile which means you have three and are just _waiting_ for it. That leaves you with the fives and aces, but you see I've got seven cards in my hand and..” he grabbed a card from Waylon's hand. It was his five. “I have three fives, with yours I now have another suit. At this stage of the game if you haven't guessed my hand there's no hope for you.”  
“I don't think I was ever going to win this game. How the hell do you do it?”  
“...I suppose it's like counting cards. So that leaves your go, do you dare ask me another time if I have that elusive three and I send you to go fish and maybe you'll find it, or you'll get one of the last available suit and start asking me for that?”  
“You're no fun.” Waylon huffed and put his cards down. “Besides, you shuffled the deck badly anyway, all the ten's are stuck together at the bottom of the pile!”  
“Just a bad case of the sore losers~” Eddie lilted helping himself once again to Waylon's cards. “Ah, I _was_ wrong. You did keep that ten to yourself. Well played.”  
Waylon gave a non-commital grunt as he glanced to his laptop. It hadn't made any noises about messages or updates, normally on a weekend all he'd get were notifications from Facebook or his email about people panicking about Monday being just around the corner. He blamed his foul mood on the wine he'd been sipping all night combined with Eddie's smug fucking face, it'd been deceptively sweet and tricked him into not realising what the volume was. Eddie had abstained, but they always said never mix meds with alcohol, at least he was smart on that front; messy emotional Eddie was hard enough to deal with, messy emotional  _drunk_ Eddie was a nightmare he didn't want to fathom.

 

Speaking of nightmares.

The backdoor jolted as something collided with it. The screech sounded almost like it'd been heavily edited with software, and Waylon scrambled to grab a hold of Eddie. The lights outside flickered plunging the forest into darkness once more, the screeching continued but sounded gradually more and more laboured. Then began the scuffling, rather than sounding like the creature was ready to attack it sounded like a wounded animal crying out to try and deter its attacker. Eddie held Waylon close, dragging them behind the sofa as cover but kept his eyes trained on the door as it thudded and banged against the frame. He was filled with dread, the images of what was outside flickered it was.. one of those things, how could it exist? But whatever was fighting it made him even more uncomfortable, it was the same feeling like his chest was being constricted and his hand brushed over the remnants of the bruising around his neck. He hated whatever it was, but it was fighting the creature, defending them. How he knew this made his head spin and somehow the resounding silence that followed a wet crunch and tearing made everything worse.  
“ _Shit_.” Waylon whispered harshly, “ _Shit_ that just happened. What the hell's going on?”  
“ _Shh._ ” Eddie hushed him.   
The silence after the cacophony outside was deafening, almost as if the whole world had stopped. A loud intentional knock broke the tension and Waylon found himself in a cold sweat. Knocking was a human thing to do right? Unless these creatures had _learned_ how to do that too. Eddie got to his feet keeping a hand on Waylon's shoulder to keep him from joining him. Out of the two of them he was the more skilled fighter and could take more blows should anything leap out at them. It wasn't like Waylon liked it, but this was how things had panned out even after all the attempts Eddie had made at teaching him to fight Eddie was the one with endurance, Waylon had the chance of maybe getting the drop on whatever it was and landing a lucky punch on it. So Waylon kept hidden, keeping a watchful eye on Eddie and reaching for the fire poker just for added defence. Eddie stayed staring at the door for perhaps a moment or two too long, he was hesitant, that dread still firmly sitting at the base of his stomach. His expression became a strained grimace and slowly unlocked the door and opened it. The tension dissolved from his shoulders as the form he was met with was familiar. Thick dark messy hair, his fringe allowed to fall on the right and the left all pulled back into a stubby ponytail. He looked like that foul-mouthed reporter, but his eyes made the dread in his stomach threaten to bubble into full blown panic. The whites of his eyes were as black as the night sky above them, his pupils were almost reptilian a thin slit against his deep hazel irises. Despite the blood spattered up his face he was stood all very casually with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.   
  
“Hey.”  
“The fuck _was_ that?” Eddie wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him for the panic he'd caused or more for the fact he was acting like it was nothing.   
“I told you, keep still and make sure the doors are locked. It'd been staking your place out.” Miles exhaled, courteously making sure the smoke didn't go in Eddie's face. “Funny... They haven't been this organised before, guess that's evolution for you.”  
“Miles?” Waylon stood up from behind the sofa, still clutching the fire poker to his chest. Miles gave him a lazy one handed wave and another puff on the cigarette. “What the hell was going on?”  
“Pest control. It's all good now.”  
“What the hell is it?” Eddie grabbed the front of Miles' shirt, his head was beginning to feel like it was stuffed with cotton wool and static. The static singing. _That same fucking chorus at Mount Massive._ Miles didn't react, only gently pushed his hand against Eddie's fists and he let him drop.  
“That's Murkoff's handiwork right there.” Miles beckoned the two to follow him as he stepped towards the bloodied mass.Waylon zipped to join the others but was still quite happy to use Eddie as cover. He made sure that he kept his distance but soon wished he hadn't looked. “I don't know if they realised what their nano-machines were producing but.. artificially created pseudo-wendigos.”  
Eddie's expression turned taut, the way his jaw tensed and his brows dipped as he looked at the creature said better than Waylon could just how horrifying it was. The mass of limbs that had been torn apart were ghostly pale and just a little too long to be called human anymore. Its face was gaunt, just like that image of Frank had been that morning Eddie had hallucinated. But its teeth were all wrong, like they'd fallen out and a new set had forcefully erupted from the gums. Some teeth were broken or malformed, but it looked more like they were staring into the jaws of an angler fish rather than something that had once been human.  
“...This was once a _person_?” Waylon coughed, the stench of death and decay had been long enough forgotten since Mount Massive, but here it was, just like a ghost from their past here to haunt them. “No. No way. You're just fucking with us.” He hoped Miles was, but the way he glanced back at him said everything. “ _How?_ ”  
“Tell you what, you get me a cup of joe and I'll tell you.” He took a long drag of the cigarette and then flicked the stub on the bloody mass. The stench was even more putrid as the body erupted into flames almost instantaneously as it landed. It was like Miles was burning something that was going mouldy. “And you, big guy,” Miles lightly rapped his knuckles against Eddie's chest. “I've got some information that'll help you with the other one.”  
The two watched as Miles walked into the lodge and shrugged his jacket off, hung it up on the coat rack and kicked his ratty boots off. So much for a quiet night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I tell myself that you're no good for me  
> I wish you well, but desire never leaves  
> I could fight this til the end  
> But maybe I don't want to win
> 
> I breathe you in again just to feel you  
> Underneath my skin, holding on to  
> The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison
> 
> I don't wanna be saved, I don't wanna be sober  
> I want you on my mind, in my dreams behind these eyes  
> And I won't wake up, no not this time."  
> Familiar Taste of Poison - Halestorm
> 
> _The song Eddie was singing along to is Swallow by Emilie Autumn._
> 
> And in comes Miles with a mic drop, next chapter will have him telling Eddie and Waylon what the end game Murkoff had in mind was and whether what's happened was really at all in the plan. Let me know what you think in the comments, thank you so much for the kudos and feedback you've given me, I'm really glad you're enjoying it. Alternatively, if you want to nerd at me on theories, here's a link to my [Tumblr](http://www.miutinichisheno.tumblr.com)


	22. Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles sweeps in and takes care of a stray psuedo-Wendigo that escaped from the ruins of The Mount Massive facility. Eddie and Waylon have questions, Miles has some answers but they're not all the ones that either want to hear. The Groom begins his transformation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> "Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state  
> A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake  
> No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber  
> Until I realize that it was you who held me under
> 
> Felt it in my fist, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids  
> Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs
> 
> No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone  
> No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden  
> No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
> No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
> No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world"

Waylon looked at the burning pile by the back door and wrinkled his nose. It was more than a grim reminder that Murkoff was on their heels, that despite managing to escape the hell hole, their job wasn't done even if Lisa had told them they needed to keep their heads down. As glad as he was to know that Miles was all well and good, his appearance didn't mean good things like he'd hoped it would. The way he'd wanted it was to just get a call from him and say something along the lines of, _hey Waylon, everything's under control, the other Murkoff facilities are destroyed and all their patients are safe, everything's wonderful._ No one could accuse him of being a pessimist, just perhaps he wasn't the most realistic in his daydreaming.

Eddie still didn't look comfortable, he was hunched over himself, shoulders squared and shooting Miles a filthy look as the journalist scrolled through documents on his tablet. He knew they didn't get along, their personalities were too different... or perhaps they were too similar, Eddie saw so much of his own crassness in Miles and resented it. Miles, however, didn't seem to be flapped about it at all, but when you had a creature composed of nanomachines keeping you safe then what did one person not liking you matter?

“Murkoff were so het up on their Walrider being exactly what they intended it to be, they didn't allow any room for variations.” Miles got up from the sofa and plugged a cable into the tablet, bringing the images up on the television for them both to see. The footage was of Eddie's time in the Morphogenic Engine. Waylon watched as the man's knuckles tightened as he balled his fists, for his pain and suffering to be so brazenly displayed it was almost a joke. “If you watch this carefully what they didn't notice was your readings weren't too far from Billy Hope's when he made his 'ascension'. The major difference is that Billy was trying to please Wernicke, he wanted to be the perfect host for the Walrider and as such he made more of a dramatic display.”  
“So the nano-machines took?” Waylon narrowed his eyes, trying carefully skirt the mentality that he was the programmer of this system, but he couldn't help but be fascinated by it. “How are Eddie's any different from the ones that took to you?”  
“The whole point was that the host was meant to be lucid dreaming to control the machines. They wanted to create a weapon that would allow for fewer casualties on their part, how can you destroy something that's not really alive? That's just a tool being used by a host out of the line of fire.” Miles lifted his palm watching as a darkness gathered to create the clawed hand of the Walrider mimicking his gesture. Eddie shifted on the sofa, his face blanching by comparison to Waylon curiously moving closer and putting his index finger on the Walrider's palm. The entity flinched somewhat but didn't move away from Waylon's touch, instead it grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. The programmer's heart hammered as he saw the creature materialise for a split second. It really felt like he was holding onto something, it was cold and oddly solid. The silence lingered, but there was a dull static buzzing. Waylon's eyes widened as he realised this was what the variants had been talking about, what Eddie had been talking about; the static hymn. He made eye contact with the Walrider and it vanished again. Miles' gaze was locked with Eddie's intense stare, it was possessive and more of a warning than anything. The only thing that kept him in line was his fear. Miles cleared his throat.  
  
“You've read the files, it was a resurrected project from world war 2, but the Nazis just didn't have the right technology or means to make it take. In order for the nano-machines to find the perfect host, the person has to be broken. The difference is with me, the nano-machines jumped host. I was given the perfect Walrider, I didn't achieve it, I was just in a bad enough high strung state that they took. It tried to kill me, all for the sake of defending its host, Billy. Problem was, Billy lost control of it in the riots, all the pain they'd put him through came to the surface. He didn't really want to suffer but Wernicke had groomed him for the task. So what does a kid that broken and upset do when his trauma's brought to the surface? He lashes out.” Miles paused catching a glimpse of the Walrider hovering by the window. He knew it would happen, but he needed it to, he needed to make Eddie as uncomfortable as he could so he could beckon forth his own nano-machine projection. “As for yours, Eddie, you hear that static all the time don't you? The doctors probably told you it was tinnitus because of your age and the way you like to listen to music. You try to drown out the sound so you don't have to listen to it.”  
“Everyone who'd been at Murkoff for a prolonged time heard it. Even Walker did. The nano-machines were _everywhere_ , the idiots just didn't _know_. What's your point?” Eddie hissed in response trying to appear detached.  
“The nano-machines adapted to everyone who they'd been bonded to. They reacted in different ways to people. In your own way you have your own Walrider manifestation thanks to the Morphogenic Engine, just think about how it's changed you. All the things you can suddenly do now that you would have never been capable of before.”  
Waylon looked to Eddie. Miles had a point, ever since he met Eddie he'd noticed just how strong he was compared to just about everyone else, how strangely quick he moved for a guy his size, even his capabilities to become familiar with his surroundings... hell even when he first met him, how the dark didn't seem to hinder him at all. Even if he'd hidden in pitch darkness he was capable of finding him... and now how easily he could take down a stag. It wasn't normal. Eddie's frown intensified and shook his head.  
“No, it's not possible. I don't believe you.” His eyes narrowed as he got to his feet. “I thought you said you'd come here with important information, not pathetic grasping at straws to explain your own mania.”  
Eddie had fully intended to walk away and leave Waylon and Miles to their precious little nerd jerk circle, Miles clearly had other ideas and stood in his way. The Walrider manifested away from the window to suddenly behind Miles, mirroring the folded arms and body language.  
“Don't you remember that dream?” His tone was quiet but almost taunting, the way he cocked his head getting unnervingly close to Eddie. “All those bodies?”  
“Eddie? What's he talking about?” Waylon wanted to interfere, but Miles held his hand up to stop him without even looking in his direction.  
“How terrified you were about them all falling from the sky, a reminder of everything you were capable of.” Miles' tongue flicked over his lips, almost mimicking the way Eddie looked before a fight he was aching for. It was the same predatory look that sharpened his features. “A body count of two hundred, all those dresses, the drawings, the bodies carved up to emulate birthing as twisted and sickening as your depraved sense of justice became. You can't stand to be around me, you get almost _sick_ , the ringing gets worse. And you know why? It's our nano-machines colliding and exchanging information. I know _everything_. Even those times you black out and can't remember anything. You're not in control of your Walrider yet and it rules you as fickle as its temperament.”  
“Stop talking.” Eddie growled through gritted teeth.  
“If you want to have any hope of controlling it you have to stop running and face it.” Miles circled him like a wolf. Eddie clutched his head, it stung like it was going to split in two. The hymn of static was louder than ever, completely unavoidable. “You kept screaming at me when I brought it to you in that dream, but without it, you wouldn't have been able to predict where the militia and cops would have been that day you escaped Boulder.”  
“You visited him in a _dream_?” Waylon tried to get between them, despite Miles' insistence otherwise. Yeah, the Morphogenic Engine was all about lucid dreaming, but he didn't realise that shared dreams were actually a thing. Did this justify astral projections?  
“I was in the neighbourhood, whilst you were all asleep my Nano-Machines were communicating with Eddie's. Your Walrider has the ability to map out a localised area. You talk to anyone in Boulder that day and ask them about static ringing they'll all say the same. They didn't realise it at the time but when they remember it all they can remember is the static's rhythm.” Miles looked like he was buzzing with excitement. “The nano-machines in you have attached themselves to your mania's manifestation and have been giving it power. You aren't the Walrider they wanted, but you definitely aren't a failed attempt. It worked. You have successfully been fused with the nano-machines, just think what you would be capable of if you practised?”  
“...If it's not the Walrider, what do I call it?” He winced, the dramatic shift in Miles' tone and attitude was difficult to put it politely. The static was still too loud to be ignored and the high ceilings only seemed to give it more room to cause noise in. How Waylon was completely oblivious to it was beyond him.  
“So far it's just The Groom, because that's what you've named it. But how did it appear to you in the dream?” He paused, taking a step back as he noticed the uncomfortable shift Eddie gave.  
The mental image was still raw and terrifying in his memory, the scene around it had faded almost into seeming obscurity, the burning image was all that mattered and wouldn't be ignored. Eddie grabbed a pen from the table and began scrawling. It was nothing like the pictures that had been strewn around The Groom's domain, by comparison the Groom's pictures had been childlike stick figure drawings with a dark nature. Eddie's drawings were thick lines, heavy pressure and scratchy, almost nightmare like in their own right. The creature's shoulders were broad like his own, the waistcoat was patched together like The Groom's but the texture looked almost like different leathers patched together. In its hands was a staff made from a gnarled branch, its fingers were clawed. The legs began looking human but soon curved into satyr-like legs with large cloven hooves like a shire horse, a long tail with a large tuft of stray fur before the whip-like end. Worst of all was the cracked deer skull it wore over its face. The horns were large and impressive, confusingly so they further up they went the more faded they became as though they would carry on for as long as it wanted. The sound against the table grated. His eyes blown wide as he added detail after detail. Remembering dreams was a feat in of itself, to recall such detail vividly was astounding.  
Eddie dropped the pen and staggered back from the table, despite the black hollows that were its eyes it felt like it was staring at you. He wished he'd never drawn it, drawing it gave it a physical appearance, a presence. But it was just a _dream_ these sorts of things weren't possible, no matter how much technobable Miles came out with. If he didn't acknowledge it, it didn't make it real, he didn't have to deal with it.  
“It gives those it crosses what they deserve.” He uttered under his breath. “Its a powerful genius...capricious...impetuous, peculiar, rascally, crude, immodest, haughty, vain, fickle, today your warmest friend, tomorrow alien and cold; ...roguish and respectable, stubborn and flexible... He is a trickster.”  
Waylon felt his mouth growing dry as he looked up and caught a glimpse of the shadow behind Eddie, it towered high stretching almost to the rafters in the ceiling, almost a perfect doppelganger of the man.. but with the horns and tail in the nightmarishly detailed picture left on the table. The atmosphere grew heavy and overwhelming. The sound of the static grew louder once more, the two entities clashing together. Miles followed the programmer's line of sight and his brows raised. The impression of the nanomachines in the dream hadn't been clear to him, to him it had looked like Eddie but with eyes like his own. Black backing with red irises. Only once it had been brought to him did it begin to take the intended form.  
  
“You should know Murkoff perhaps did awaken something in the mountain. The Nazis were obsessed with the supernatural, wanting to dabble and use the dark arts to help their efforts. Perhaps there was nothing in that mountain, but the idea was there enough. Impressions. These Psuedo-Wendigos they produced, in the deepest parts of the facility that were blocked off before, there was talk in Frank's file about Wendigo syndrome and then research about Wendigos. In the old legends my people told, a person became a Wendigo when they ate the flesh of another human. But they could also become one if driven enough by greed.” The shadow behind Eddie disappeared with the revelation Miles gave, it was clearly something to distract him. “Which was why your friend Mr. Blaire was so hard to kill. He'd been in the facility for so long the nano-machines had thoroughly settled themselves in for the long haul. In the end, there was such little food left in the facility that the patients turned to feasting upon one another and the militia that raided it. The idea had been put out there into the world for the nano-machines to latch onto.”  
“Can.. can they change a person that much?” Waylon gave a quick glance to the curtains, the burning pile of bloodied parts sprang to mind and he shuddered. “Are they even human still?”  
“Technically yes.” Miles nodded. “Like myself and Eddie are still technically human, we are literally variants ourselves, but we'd be considered successful variants.”  
“So.. you've been playing clean up?”  
“It's kinda fucked up really, I've been carrying on the job that Chris Walker set himself. Making sure the contamination doesn't get out. It's a shame Billy killed him, if he knew what my intentions were he might have helped us... but I don't think we'd have seen eye to eye on the matter.”  
“You think he knew people were becoming wendigos?” Eddie cocked his head.  
“Probably not wendigos specifically, he just knew the nano-machines had infected people.” It was odd to think that you could begin to feel sympathy for the man that spent every moment you knew of each other trying to kill you. But then again, the example of how it could work were right in front of him. Chris wasn't like Eddie, Chris was blinkered, he'd set himself a goal and was going to stick with it. Eddie? Eddie just seemed to be drifting, but like Chris he was acting upon his own nanomachines' will. They weren't so different really. It just seemed to make things seem that much worse. A soldier so deeply traumatised by his tours in the middle east and still he tried to protect people. Shit, he would have been fantastic help. He sighed and shrugged. “Point is, there's more going on than they planned, more than they could hope. If it hadn't gone so badly, no doubt they'd have realised this and capitalised on the Wendigos. Not like they'd be able to control them anyways. So as shitty as this all is; this is all for the best.”  
“So what's the plan now?” Waylon rubbed the nape of his neck. Seeing everything, _hearing_ everything felt like the past week had been his breather, no matter how stressful and bizarre it might have been. Back into the deep end. “Are we going to go public on this?”  
“I don't wanna be that guy, but for now, it's best we eliminate them and not cause nationwide panic. Get evidence, yeah, but the Wendigos need to be taken out. I'll do that, don't you worry, I've got other facilities to hit up but you two need to focus on getting control over Eddie's Walrider.”  
“I can't do that.” Eddie shook his head, it still hurt. Despite how important it may have been, he knew well enough what this thing was capable of there wouldn't be any room for compromise, no way would it allow for a symbiotic relationship. “There's no way..”  
“Eddie,” The image of the Walrider behind Miles scattered as he stepped closer, making sure to take it as slow as possible. He was new to this and he was new to Eddie's interchangeable temperament. If there weren't more facilities then Miles might have considered staying around to mentor him, but just being around him seemed to cause too much of a caustic reaction. “You've already mastered more than you realise. If it was out of control then this place would be like a horror writer's wet dream for a creepy cabin in the woods, but it's not. I look around and I just see a place where you're trying to make a home and adjust. Waylon's still in one piece.. bruises aside.”  
“I-” Eddie tried to protest, already starting to patch things together from their fight earlier. How he'd _delighted_ in beating the shit out of Waylon. It had a point. Somewhere in there there was a point to it all, it wasn't just whimsical. That wasn't _him_. “I can't. I've already done too much damage.”  
“Look, I don't know what's going on with you two and that's your business.”  
“It was my fault. I started it. We were talking it through before that... _thing_ interrupted us. We need to get better at communication, that's all it is.” Waylon grimaced. There was no way to say it without sounding like some battered housewife, the wince that Eddie gave after he spoke was enough of an indication that sounded like where it was going. “Things are getting complicated with us and... shit I don't know what I'm doing anymore, we're close. We're closer than we should be, but that's what it is and Eddie didn't want me to screw things up with Lisa. And I was too chicken shit to start talking to her about it.”  
“...Wow, okay I was just going to say that you two have been looking out for each other just fine and I'm a phone call away if you need advice. But you know if you wanna out your Brokeback story to me then I'm not gonna judge.” Miles awkwardly patted Eddie on the upper arm. “I mean, yeah wow, but no judgements- So you don't trust yourself after you had a fight?”  
“You're over simplifying it-”  
“Nah, you're just over complicating the shit out of this.” The journalist sighed, running his hand through his hair and gave a short huff of a laugh. “I didn't fucking sign up to play couples therapy with you two, but I suppose I should have expected it after what we've been dealing with. Just fucking _talk_ to one another, it's not that difficult. Anything you think you could say that's gonna make the other one walk way probably won't. Eddie you've carved up people and Waylon's still here, and Waylon, Eddie's not fucking going anywhere. Where in the shit is he _going_ to go? You two are stuck together and you're gonna have to learn there are gonna be bumps in the road and one fight isn't going to tear everything down. You get pissed at one another? Fine. Take a breather. Go do something else till you cool off and can talk about it later. Waylon done something that's rubbed your anxiety the wrong way? Tell him. Waylon, if Eddie tells you this, you fucking listen and take notes. You're not in competition with one another, you're not trying to get one up on each other. Eddie, if Waylon thinks you need to cool off or you're talking out the back of your head? Listen.” Miles exhaled heavily almost like he was blowing a raspberry in exasperation. “You've probably by now in high stress situations seen the fuckin' worst of each other, the hell else is there to lose by talking? Yeah you both probably have your own reasons for being guarded sons of bitches, but you're gonna have to try a little harder to meet each other half way. No more punching each other, no more raised voices, if you can't say it without getting shitty then take a deep breath and try later. You hear me?”  
Eddie clicked with his cheek and avoided looking at Miles too much. Being schooled by him about the Walrider was embarrassing enough, this was the cherry on top.  
“What, would you prefer to pussy-foot around this and not get it over and done with?”  
“No, that's not it.” Waylon groaned. It was so aggressive and upfront. The two of them had learned to tread carefully, but perhaps Miles was right and it wasn't helping.  
“Look, I'm not saying be a douche-canoe about problems when they come up. You can be thoughtful _and_ direct.”  
“I'm not ready to talk and that's my choice. I told Waylon I know best about how to cope and I'll say it when I'm ready.” How dare he come in here and start telling them how they should do things.  
“Yeah. Fine, you do know your own head better.” Miles laughed. “But do you actually ever intend to talk about it?”  
“I-”  
“How about, we'll see how it goes?” Waylon interjected sheepishly. “We know where we went wrong. I'm- thank you for trying to help, but we've got it. Really. You're right, we've made it this long, it'll be fine.” He paused and looked to Eddie. The man's fists were clenched again, brows dipped and avoiding eye contact with either of them. Miles might have gone a little far. “I do need to listen more and try to understand.”  
“Look, I may be talking out of my ass myself, I'm not invested in whatever this is. I've got bigger fish to fry, but I need you two to not tear each other apart. We all do. All the folks that Murkoff fucked over need you two to keep it together and be there. By you speaking out, think how many other cases have now popped up all over the country, hell maybe even the world because you had the nerve to send me that stupid email. You've changed the way people are talking about this.” Miles shifted and rubbed his neck. He was rambling, back-peddling in his own way. He had been kinda heavy handed there, but what else was he going to do? The country was at threat from Wendigos and here they were having relationship drama and the who slept with who bullshit. It was so... high school. But high school never ends, it always carried on over to adult life, all about who you're fucking and who's doing what drugs. But it was a distraction. Gods knew they needed it. “Point is, you got this. I promise. Anyway. That's enough touchy-feely for today. I've got Wendigos to fuck up.”  
“Damnnit Miles..” Waylon winced. _They were people once. You said that yourself._

 

The journalist grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, leaving Eddie and Waylon on their own. Still, he couldn't help but think more about the image that Eddie's Nanomachines took on. It had a weighty presence. Almost completely overwhelming in some ways. Just what would Walker's have been like if he was around? He couldn't even begin to fathom what it might have been, only that he wouldn't wish that sort of destructive power on anything. Knowing Murkoff it was in some terrible way for the best that Walker hadn't made it. The scent of burning flesh was still pungent even in the forest night air. Only embers remained on the mass of flesh by the back door. _That could have been Eddie. That could have been any of us._ Miles felt his skin crawling as he walked away. As easy as it was to kill at the time, no one ever told you the sickness that lingered after you took a life. It shouldn't have mattered, he was doing what needed to be done. Did Walker feel this disgusted with himself and what he was capable of? He couldn't dwell on it, not yet, there was still too much to be done and he couldn't have his own guilt weighing him down. If there was a cure it would be a different matter, but Murkoff would rather everyone involved burn. He really was doing their clean-up work. There had to be a better way.

 

Waylon couldn't bring himself to keep the fire lit for the rest of the evening. Once he found comfort in the scent of the woodsmoke and the roaring flames crackling over the logs, now all he could think of was of the monster- no, the person that'd been burned alive outside. He wouldn't consider himself a man of violence, he couldn't stand it really. Watching people get hurt made him so uncomfortable, yet here he was. Sharing his bed with a murderer every night and relying on him to keep him safe. The sadness behind his eyes had become more and more apparent the longer he spent time with him. It was so obvious he wondered how he didn't notice it when he first saw him... well he did see it the _first_ time he saw him. The pure terror wracking his body as he screamed for help with all his might. Why wouldn't he have shut down and allowed the Groom to take control? But now it had transcended. It wasn't something he could escape to. It was now something with seemingly its own will. His last vestige of escape and sanctuary now too treacherous for him to seek solace and comfort in. But if it was something of a problem, as cruel as it was for Miles to highlight it, it needed to be done... maybe. Like he could trust himself on it, he was invested in Eddie. He'd never seen him so shaken as when he produced the sketch of his 'Walrider'. He wasn't going to lie, the image of the shadow cast against the cabin walls would stay with him till the grave and it made him incredibly glad Eddie hadn't seen it.  
He walked to the coffee table and glanced over the sketch. It was harrowing to look at, but the detail itself was indeed masterful, if he didn't enjoy making clothing so much he'd probably been able to make a career in producing horror art. Not that he wanted to entertain that thought for long. Eddie was still quiet, stood where he had been since before Miles left. He looked completely unsure of what to do with himself. Torn between crying and shutting down, but now shutting down meant giving The Groom free reign and now he wasn't safe it wasn't an option. Waylon felt his stomach sink at the sight. He wanted to do something, make him feel better but lord knew if he knew what he could do. His brows dipped as he picked up Eddie's sketch and debated throwing it in the fire. As hideous as it was to look at it, he found he liked it the more he looked at it. It was imposing, but the description Eddie gave of it wasn't... as awful as it could have been. Capricious, one minute your best friend, the next cold as ice? He couldn't help but chuckle, it was a reflection of him. Was that what worried Eddie so much? Rather than throw it in the fire, Waylon concluded out of sight out of mind was the best approach for this. He folded the paper and slipped it into the back of a book on the table. Already fighting with the image that he was monstrous the nanomachines couldn't have helped. 'Monsters are just a reflection of shadows within us' wasn't that how the phrase went?  
He gave Eddie a small smile, approaching him slowly and gently wrapping his arms around Eddie's broad bicep. The man shifted uncomfortably but did nothing to push Waylon away. If there was meant to be an exchange of words they must have gotten trapped in Eddie's throat somewhere along the way. Reading body language wasn't something Waylon did well, he was always deeply aware of it but the signals didn't always match up to his reading; but with Eddie, he was starting to learn. He wanted closeness but he was anxious. Story of his life.  
“I'm not good at listening to you. I know that.” Waylon nuzzled into his shoulder. He was so warm. “I've shut you out when you have tried to be open in the past and that's made you nervous about talking to me. Because... no, I don't really get it.”  
“I have words. So many words, but none of them align to make proper sentences.” Eddie replied hoarsely. It was exhausting, no wonder Waylon lost his patience with him over it.  
“I'll listen even so.” He gave Eddie's arm another squeeze. “I'll learn. Even if it doesn't make sense, tell me. When you panicked before we met with Julian, I should have pulled over instead of telling you to stop being a pain. It's not like you can help it. That's the... that was the mistake I was making. You don't control it.”  
“I don't have the energy for this right now.” Eddie shook his head. “When I say I can't, please believe me. I don't _want_ to be a pain. If I could switch this off I would. I know how much of a burden I am on you. This would be so much easier for you if I wasn't here-”  
“No it wouldn't. I might have made it this far, but I also might have died in there. I wouldn't have been able to escape them in Boulder if it weren't for you. We've got this.”  
“I can't help but think you're a glutton for punishment.”  
“And you've put up with my shit, consistently. So, you're as much a glutton as I am.” The smile was small, but it was genuine, albeit just a little embarrassed. “I'm invested now. I can't just turn my back on you.”  
Eddie's jaw clenched, he'd never done anything of worth in his life so how was this how things were now? How did he deserve Waylon? There was no doubt that this had developed quickly, but it was like a rabbit hole that just kept getting deeper and with no way to turn back. The Groom was ecstatic, he could feel the elated buzz somewhere in the back of his skull – it was like he'd triumphed. As much joy as it brought him, he couldn't help but feel still like this wasn't how things were meant to be. Yet here he was. Waylon stood before him and telling him he was willing to take a chance on this. Eddie sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to silence the racing of his mind. Why should it be so hard? Who says that he didn't deserve this second chance? _The only one standing in the way of this is myself_.  
He reached out and wrapped his arms around Waylon. The shorter man held his breath for a moment from the sudden gesture on Eddie's part. He was as warm as ever, his chest pounding and the grip he held over him almost suffocatingly tight. It had an element of desperation about it. Desperate to hold onto Waylon and their bond. He didn't want to lose himself to The Groom again. Those were the bad days. This was a chance to break away from it all and start new. It wouldn't be like it was with Lani and Maggie, he wouldn't allow himself to screw it up. He wouldn't allow for Murkoff to drag them apart again. He wasn't going to be anyone's pet project. This power he now had did indeed scare him, especially if he did go off the rails, but the only thing they had in common was their desire to keep Waylon safe at at their side. That would be enough to call something of a truce, right? He couldn't help but wonder if he was shaking hands with the devil, the way the creature looked now. No longer the seemingly polite and unassuming man the Groom once was, there was a constant state of flux about him, Miles had just helped him put his finger on what about him was so different.

 

Despite how close he was huddled to Waylon that night it didn't seem to help his anxiety. His sleep was repeatedly disturbed by visions and nightmares all about The Groom. The Asylum at the top of the Mountain burned, the fire from the Chapel spreading further and further through the grounds. There in the middle of it all sat upon a mismatched mess of a throne was The Groom. But the Groom didn't feel right spilling from his mouth as he shouted at him. The deer skull was cracked further, the horns stretching almost to the sky, branching like an ancient tree. A second set of horns had grown that resembled more like a ram's. A light curve as it reached his clavicles and then pointed back upwards. His shoulders were broader. His hair now grew through the skull like it was his head resembling a thick matted mane. In his hand he held a staff, an old and gnarled branch that twisted, strings tied around it held bones of small animals and cuttings of wild flowers. He was laughing, oblivious of Eddie's screaming at him. It was awful. The noise was like rocks grinding together, a storm rumbling in the distance and that _static_ that made all the hair on his arms stand on end. The charred bodies of Variants and Murkoff employees alike scattered the scorched hellscape. Desperately he searched for Waylon, that creeping sense of dread burning in his gut. He had to still be here – _Why would he be here?_ He'd later wonder after all this was just a dream – The Groom was adamant that Waylon was his Bride, he would never let him out of his sight. He could barely hear anything over the roaring flames and the callous laughter of the beast sat before him. _Waylon_.  
Something grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him before The Groom. He was forced to his knees, twisting at a painful angle just to try and hold it's hollow-eyed gaze. The laughter ceased as it lurched forward, the lower set of horns dangerously close to his jugular.  
“You wished for this. You wished for them all to get what they deserved. Look upon this.” His voice was unbearable. It had the soft lilt of The Groom, but a second tone resonated, deep and distorted. His hand clasped around Eddie's head, cruelly making him stare at one victim still half alive and screaming. _Was that Miles?_ “This is what you wanted. All shall get what they deserve. Order must be restored. These inferior insects must be purged. The world will be cleansed in blood and fire.”  
“No- This-”  
“Why do you weep Catalyst?”  
“This isn't what I _want_ -”  
“But this is what they _deserve_. The Mountain God has passed his judgement.”  
He felt the grip tighten on his skull as he cried out.

 

Eddie's eyes opened with a start. Outside he could hear the morning bird song starting. It was still dark and yet despite knowing that he was in Waylon's cabin he couldn't shake that panic that dwelt in his stomach. Miles could project his nanomachines to take the form of the Walrider, what about his? That thick shadow that Waylon couldn't take his eyes off the night before. His eyes scanned the room, hoping that he wouldn't see anything. He didn't, but he couldn't ignore the dull orange light that flickered in the gaps between the curtains. Carefully he got to his feet and headed to the window, gently opening the curtains. Dawn hadn't quite broken yet, the moon was still in the sky albeit shadowed by clouds, yet in the distance he could see a red orange hue spreading over the sky. It didn't look like the pollution smog that a lot of cities had, it was like flames. He shook his head and wrenched his eyes shut, muttering under his breath that it was indeed just a dream. Eddie clenched the curtains tightly, chanting 'it's just a dream' like a mantra.  
_It is a possibility._  
That same voice made his skin crawl. He didn't dare open his eyes for fear that he'd see the creature that it belonged to lingering over his shoulder.  
“Eddie, what's wrong? Come back to bed.” Waylon groaned, shifting in the sheets. He looked up and for a split second he was fairly sure he saw the shadowy figure of something stood behind Eddie. The next it was gone. He sat up and patted the spot next to him on the bed, wondering if Eddie had indeed actually heard him.  
Eddie slowly opened his eyes, the orange tint in the night sky was no longer there, leaving him wondering all over again if he could really trust himself. He conceded and closed the curtains. The Groom wouldn't let him be, it was just how things were going to be. Clumsily he crawled back onto the bed and under the covers to latch at Waylon's side once again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
>   
>  "And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack  
> All around the world was waking, I never could go back  
> Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open  
> And finally it seemed that the spell was broken
> 
> And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open  
> And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open
> 
> No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone  
> No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden  
> No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
> No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
> No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world"  
> Florence + The Machine - Blinding
> 
> Hope the wait was worth it! As of recently, I have the playlist for this fic [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmnfCbrIhoGLMfx7DHrYFZNhfZxVItLSm) and my tumblr [here](https://www.saltiestofqueers.tumblr.com) if you want to come talk theories, AUs plots anything. Anything related to this fic will be tagged as: light up the dark fic. I sometimes do doodles based on this 'verse. I may also start doing an offshoot drabble series to fill in some gaps, follow more mundane events and maybe some kink I have so many ideas
> 
> Next chapter - Miles gets to finally meet Lisa.
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	23. Thousand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles tracks down Lisa to update her on the situation with Murkoff's dealings outside of the public eye. In the process, the two find themselves poking and digging at things they didn't realise hurt before and find just a little bit of comfort in being the forgotten duo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The air's crisp  
> Kinda way that it sobers your mind and drives you back home again  
> You lift all the burdens from your shoulders and realize  
> You've reached the end
> 
> Tell me honestly what you came here for  
> When you've had enough but you beg for more  
> And you talk so tough but you can't ignore  
> That you're done driving down a dead end road  
> Done driving on down a dead end road"

Creeping around was something Miles had always been good at. His footsteps could be so light when he wanted that he could be stood in a room for nearly ten minutes before someone realised he was there. The reason he kept on doing it wasn't out of some ingrained sense of pride, it was more a sadistic kick he got when he saw them jump. It just so happened that as he got older he began to take equal amounts of pride in it as his own enjoyment. It paid off time after time in his line of work, especially in Mt. Massive, even if he had been perhaps too heavy handed with the doors and gates. Subtlety be damned, he'd made it out alive. Though how Waylon and Eddie made it out alive was beyond him. Part of him was still convinced that Waylon had developed Stockholm Syndrome whilst he was escaping the asylum with him, especially when he had a wife and kids. Maybe he was just one of those weak willed people who needed someone to be a pillar, not that he wanted to be so critical of the guy, but it didn't make any sense to him. Still, not like he could pick his allies.  
His travels had taken him to skulking around Boulder, asking around the city what people had seen the day Murkoff nearly caught them and shaping people's views on the nationwide scandal they'd dug up for themselves. But it became clear after a while that he couldn't ignore the woman standing at the front line of this messy battle. He didn't want to put her on a pedestal, but Waylon clearly didn't have a clue how good he had it. She was quick to control people's attention, she was manipulative, she was calculating, she had almost an immeasurable passion for what she was doing. If she knew that Waylon was now all up on Eddie, would that diminish her steam for being the social driving force for this anti-Murkoff campaign? He had to wonder if Waylon was letting himself be lead by the nose and as such cause the fall of this entirely.  
Miles had been wandering for what felt like an age until he reached the familiar cul de sac that had been plastered all over the local news. All the lights in the houses were out, the street lamps had long gone out. Despite being in a city, it was oddly quiet. Sure there was the odd sound of a car alarm way way off in the distance, and the dull bustle there was seemingly nothing. It wasn't completely unsettling, just odd. He made his way towards the house, the Walrider fabricating and disappearing sporadically. As anti-social as Miles was, he didn't enjoy being so cut off from people. But he had a job to do, he had to make sure that Lisa was keeping on track.  
A light went on in one of the upper floor rooms and Miles cocked his head. He tried to discern for any sounds, but unfortunately his Walrider didn't work like that. It shifted and Miles shook his head. He wasn't about to send it in there to spy for him, he didn't want to scare anyone. The light went off and in a matter of moments a light on the bottom floor went on. It was the kitchen. He studied the front of the house and noticed the burnout tracks hadn't been cleaned away. It'd been nearly two weeks since they'd make their escape... but then again, Lisa probably had other things on her mind.

He heard glass breaking and he rushed to look in the window. Lisa was leant against the counter. Scattered across the tiles were small shards of glass. Her lips were pressed together tightly, trying to stifle the tremble in her lower lip, eyes narrowed and breathing deeply. _The woman's not made of stone._  
“Don'chu dare.” She whispered harshly. “Girl, _don'chu dare_.”  
Miles worried his own lip, he wanted to say something, but there wasn't a good way to announce his presence at this time of the night. He winced as he lightly tapped at the window. Forget that he was stood in the flowerbed under the windowsill, he was a man she didn't know and it was going on 2am. _Not shady at all Upshur, not at all._  
Lisa looked straight to the window and her eyes widened, as expected. She didn't make a noise but she did bare her teeth at him and grab the nearest blunt thing to her. It was a skillet. Quickly he put his hands up and shook his head. Shit this was not going the way he hoped it would. She made a swiping motion with her foot and pushed the glass aside as she strolled to the window and swung it open. The cuts she'd gotten on her feet went completely unnoticed as the adrenaline pumped, ready for a fight.  
“Who the fuck are you?” She growled, skillet resting on her shoulder, a perfect angle to swing it right for his head. “You got ten seconds 'fore I call the police.”  
“I'm Miles!” He blurted, hands up and doing frankly a pathetic job of keeping his face safe from the very real danger that skillet posed him. “I helped Waylon- I'm... I guess I'm here to fill you in on stuff?”  
“And you thought you'd do that by creepin' around on my front yard. Phones and emails work.” Her tone became more level, but there was still an element of disbelief about her. “Prove you're who you say you are.”  
“You're shitting me?”  
“I've got people showing up here all hours of the day, saying this and that just to get a story. Sugar, you're gonna have to understand you're some stranger showing up at a suspicious time of the night to me.”  
Miles' brows dipped. She had a point, but this was just a pain in the ass. “Miles Upshur. Come on, you've got to have seen the footage of me on Waylon's camera-”  
“I have two very small children, when the hell do you think I've had the time to watch it all thoroughly? I've been doing what anyone else has, watching parts of it and skipping over the heavy shit.”  
Why in the hell did he leave his ID badge in the jeep. He should have grabbed it from the damn thing before he left the cabin.  
“I'll prove it. But if you hit me in the head I can't guarantee this guy's gonna be happy you're hitting his host around.” Behind Miles the Walrider took a more solid appearance, it was stood almost like him, shoulders slightly slouched, head cocked and just hanging there a couple of inches of the ground.  
Lisa jolted slightly, but the grip on the skillet's handle tightened. It was the Walrider alright. She sucked on her teeth and groaned loudly, admitting defeat. The window slammed shut in Miles' face and she left the room to start unlocking the front door. Waylon had said he'd probably bitten off more than he could chew with this, but this entire situation was getting more and more ridiculous.  
“What'chu gotta tell me.” She asked flatly, still not letting him through the door.  
“This is going to get messier.”  
“I hadn't noticed.” Her brow quirked and Miles quickly felt like he was barely a foot tall. No wonder she was doing so well against the lawyers Murkoff had hired, they all knew it was a sinking ship.  
“No, I mean,” he exhaled heavily, pushing his fringe out of his eye. “Murkoff did more than make the Walrider and use people for their experiments. There's facilities all up and down the States and they're... _changing_ people.”  
“Changing them how? Miles, you sound like you're on something. When in the hell was the last time you slept?”  
“More often than you'd think- But the nanomachines, they change people. They make them into monsters.”  
“Miles I'm going back to bed-”  
“I've had to clear out half a dozen facilities of these monsters. I've had to kill people to stop this from spreading.”  
  
Lisa opened her mouth to say something but instead but herself off and closed it. Her lips pressed into a firm line again and growled lowly. She stepped back from the door and beckoned Miles in. When he stepped into the light in the front room that was when she spotted the patches of dried blood on his jacket. His missing digits and the way his eyes looked like that special effect in the movie Black Swan. She'd been wondering what that smell was, but the second he said he'd been killing people she recognised that visceral scent she'd hoped after the protests in University she'd never have to smell again. He stank of death. The urge to throw him into a shower was overwhelming but potentially having to explain to Benji and Max why there was a strange man that wasn't their dad in the shower getting vigorously scrubbed by her was something way too awkward to consider doing at this time of night. It didn't mean the urge wasn't lingering. Quietly. Not really quietly. It was actually very loud and annoying. How in the hell did this man not _want_ a shower? He must have gone nose blind.  
  
As Miles took at seat at the kitchen table, narrowly avoiding the glass scattered across the floor Lisa felt the skin crawl on the back of her neck. He was filthy. Not that realistically she could judge because the man was on the run/presumed dead, but it was just going to be one of those things where she wanted to hose him down so she could selfishly feel better – if he felt better for a shower then good for him too. But he was tracking dirt in the house. It's not like she _wanted_ to spend the following day cleaning, but she had way too much going on to think about anything domestic. She was clearly an awful wife. To an awful cheating husband. What a beautiful suburban scandal stereotype they'd become.  
“Lisa, are you alright?” Miles cocked his head, watching her hurriedly sweeping up the glass. She was erratic and high strung.  
“You asking because you give a shit or because you feel like you have to?” She didn't mean to snap at him, but no one had been asking her how she was lately, it was always 'how is Waylon?' which was understandable given what he'd gone through. She didn't want to be that person. The spotlight wasn't on her, she was just keeping it off Waylon. Picking up after him like always. She sighed and stood up, shaking her head. “That wasn't fair. I'm sorry.”  
“None of us alright.” Miles shrugged. “This is a shitty situation for everyone. Waylon and Eddie's grievances aren't any more or less valid than yours, right?”  
“He's cheating on me.” She chewed her bottom lip again, brows dipped, “What am I supposed to do? Just keep going like everything's normal?”  
“Have you... talked to him about it?”  
“He told me earlier. They'd had a fight. I said I was.. fine about it. But, I'm not now.” She slumped into the chair opposite him, slouching as far as she could drape herself and rested the back of her head on the backrest. “I don't get to retract that, do I? I don't get to say, go fuck the man, what do I care? Then not be fine with it. I'm not going to be the crazy angry black bitch.”  
“You're allowed to not be fine with it.” Miles hunched forward, resting his head on the flat of his palm. “It's really shitty of him to expect you to _be_ fine with it.”  
“He doesn't expect me to be fine with it. He's an airhead but he's not that bad. But I know him, he's gonna be avoiding the conversation of 'what happens next',” she sighed shaking her head. “He feels like crap. I'm sick of being considerate of him when he hasn't considered me in this at all- Shit I don't even know if that's true. When he was back here we spent most of the night talking. He's a bad liar and his poker face is even worse. I knew something was going on the minute he told me he was bringing him home. One of those bleeding hearts... Don't get me wrong I love him for it. But he's like a scared rabbit, always been worried that this wasn't going to last. He doesn't have any faith in himself, never has.” Miles' brows dipped, trying to wrap his brain around this train of thought Lisa was going down. “Since Berkeley, he wondered how we wound up together. Your parents always telling you, you weren't good enough or achieving their expectations tends to have knock-on effects. So he's always had one foot in the door from the start.”  
“If he's so flighty, why haven't you...separated?” This sounded like far too much of a headache for Miles' taste. Straight and to the point, that was how he operated sometimes to a fault, but he prided himself on being honest. No chance for misunderstandings that way.  
“I've been just as bad. When I found out I was pregnant with Max, I couldn't think of anything worse. I had a career I was pursuing and I wasn't going to be shelved for promotions because I was knocked up. I almost didn't go through with it. Running from our marriage seemed like a great idea at the time. Leaving it all behind and living by myself. We've been holding hands in a thin corridor with a door either side of us with something through there that seems like there'd be greener pastures. I guess this was just the tug that Waylon needed to finally drop and bolt.”  
“And you don't care that he's now fucking a guy?”  
“Sugar, I have a broad spectrum of friends. Some of them are bi, some gay, some ace, some of them are trans, some are even poly. It doesn't shock me and nor should it be seen to be scandalous. What's scandalous about it is that he's as you've confirmed it, fucked someone else behind my back.”  
Miles' lips pressed into a line, realising that he may have thrown Waylon under the bus more than he intended to. “Yeah I probably said too much.”  
“I'll deal with it. I'm not sure how yet. Probably gonna make the little coconut squirm for a while.” She flashed a toothy little smirk. “You didn't come here to tattle on my flaky husband or listen to me bitch. What do you want?”  
“Well I kinda did.” Miles rubbed the back of his head and attempted to straighten up in the seat. Problem was he hadn't sat down for hours and falling asleep on the kitchen table sounded fantastic. “I wanted to make sure Murkoff hadn't put too much heat on you. That and you're kinda our PR for this case, so you need to be clued in more than anyone else.”  
“Smart.” Lisa nodded in consideration. She got to her feet and looked around the front room before closing the kitchen door. “Alright, what tea you got for me?”  
“There's been at least six other facilities I've come across. Not nearly as big as Mt. Massive, but they've all gone to hell really fucking quickly. Murkoff have no fucking clue what they've woken up with this, not at all. This is like Icarus flying too close to the sun levels of stupid. They should have realised that this wasn't going to go well when their female patients and doctors in the first few facilities started to get phantom pregnancies because of the nanomachines. Like.. they almost got to the real late stages. Most of them straight up died and they hadn't even been exposed to the hormone therapy they conducted on the patients.”  
“Fucking, shit.” Lisa muttered. “Has that bit been made public?”  
“I don't know about those files, but it was mentioned in an email Waylon found from Blaire to Trager. Trager was their fuckin' Frankenstein. To fuck up the patients even more they'd let him do 'experimental therapies',” Miles brandished his hands, showing off the now healed stubs where Trager had sliced them off. “Man took the fucking cake for Hollywood's definition of a psychopath... So that email's floating around out there somewhere. I'll have to reel it in and send it your way. Give the Government an idea of the levels of fucked up shit they were planning... it'll probably just give them ideas so you know- Shit. Point is, it's been more than just psychosomatic pregnancies. They've.. _made_ stuff. And not just my new shadow.” He gestured to the Walrider. It flickered by the window where Miles had first appeared, part of him was sure that it was keeping watch. “Waylon and Eddie got attacked whilst they were up at the cabin. It was my bad for letting one escape up at Mt. Massive-”  
“-They got attacked? Shit are they okay?”  
“Shh, shh, they're _fine_. And they're making nice by the way, not tearing each other to bits- but they made fuckin' Wendigos. You know what a Wendigo is, right?”  
“Jeepers Creepers..?”  
“...Something like that. That was an.. eh it was partially true to the myth. I don't know much about Wendigos having wings but-- Anyway! They're created when someone eats the flesh of another or experiences intense greed or fear of losing something. Different legends have different branches- point is, one of their patients did it. Frank Manera was obsessed with eating people's flesh. He fuckin refused to eat anything else, they had to force feed him through tubes. Soon as the place went to shit he started chasing anyone he could get his hands on and eating them. Didn't matter if they were alive still, he just saw dinner. Now, somewhen before shit went thoroughly brown, someone sent a message out about Frank's report to the other facilities. The nanomachines are kind of like an invisible plague. They're _everywhere_. They change the people that come into contact with them. Cannibalism happens when people get desperate and hungry and a lot of these facilities didn't have the means to contain the 'Variants' once they got past a certain point in their change. Not all of them changed though, it didn't happen to everyone at Mt. Massive either, but thanks to what Murkoff did, those patients can't be put into mental health clinics with other people in case of what those nanomachines do to the other patients.”  
“...That's why you've been killing them.”  
“Keeps the sickness in.” Miles replied quietly. There was a hoarseness in his voice. He could still hear their pleas and crying as they watched the others get ripped asunder by the Walrider. No wonder Chris went off the rails. He almost wished that he could talk to him. Just be sat down, man to man. _How do you do it?_ He'd ask. _Because someone's got to do it,_ he imagined the man replying. It wasn't the harsh growl he'd heard whilst running. It was quiet and solemn. The man must have known the sheer weight of the mission he was taking on. Shit, did he even think he'd survive it? It was just a suicide run for him. He could feel a prickling at the corners of his eyes and instantly bit his tongue, just hard enough to take his mind off the intrusive thoughts. _Get the job done, right Chris?_  
  
Miles looked up slowly, realising that a slender dark hand was clasped around his own. She squeezed tightly, remaining silent to listen attentively despite no words being exchanged.  
“It's been a really shitty ride for you too. I don't know if Waylon ever said it to you, but you've drawn the shortest straw outta all of us.”  
“Fuck-.” He gritted his teeth and pressed his fist to his mouth. He wasn't about to start crying about how fucking exhausted he was, how tired of watching all this shit happen he'd become. This hadn't been what he signed up for, Chris never would have expected him to take the torch and carry on for him and yet here he was. “Shit- can you stop being so nice for like five seconds-” He finished his sentence with a choked noise, stifling whatever was threatening to bubble over.  
“You don't have to be doing this.”  
“Who else is going to? Who else _can_.” Behind him the Walrider flickered sporadically. It was more than just a shadow, but it was having a hard time maintaining its image. To be honest he didn't know what would happen if he got emotional with the Walrider now under his control. Would it act on base instinct or would it hold back?  
“I don't have the answers, Sugar. I wish I did. But, if it helps you don't have to live on the road. You need to run somewhere and decompress, you come here.”  
“I can't-”  
“Yes, you can.” Lisa's expression hardened. “You're not doing this alone and I'm _inviting you_.”  
“Shit...” Miles ran a hand through his hair. The prickling at the corner of his eyes had shifted as he blinked away the tears. Sleep just sounded so perfect.  
“Get yourself cleaned up, I'll get a bed made.” Lisa got to her feet, pushing herself away from the table. The bags under her eyes were more apparent, especially when she yawned. “Shower's upstairs to the right.”  
“Your kids-”  
“Trust me they can sleep through anything.”

 

The shower felt like a religious experience after all the grime and muck he'd had caked on him. He'd had the opportunity to stand in the rain and shiver to get clean but otherwise he'd gone a long while without having the chance to clean himself up which was grosser than he cared to admit. The water that rinsed off him was a muggy shade of rust. The body wash he was using – some generic fruity smelly thing – barely covered up the stench that was on him, but it did what it was supposed to. His hair was in need of the most attention and nothing had felt so good as massaging his scalp with the shampoo. Everything tingled, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been cold enough for the shower to feel so burning hot, but it was _good_. The tips of his fingers felt almost stone cold at first, but soon the warmth flowed round him and it nearly became stifling amongst the steam and scalding water. He admittedly used a liberal amount of the conditioner that had to have been Lisa's and slathered his hair in it. He'd never remembered it ever being so smooth when he eased the tangles out of his hair. It'd become matted with blood, guts and gods knew what else. He knew it'd be rude to use all their hot water but when was the last time he'd had this much time to himself?  
  
Once sated that he'd cleansed himself thoroughly, Miles made his way downstairs relishing in just how comfortable the bathrobe he'd been left out was. He was _warm_ and comfortable and he wondered if he might just be able to finally sleep and not be kept awake by his memories. Lisa was draped out on a sofa by the fold out. The last person who'd slept there was Eddie. The last person to sleep on it before him was their sons and some friends who'd stayed over the weekend before Waylon left for Murkoff, but that was in a different town. A town she'd probably never be able to bring herself to go back to, never be able to look at the mountain range and think of the cabin they'd stayed in years ago. How Waylon was comfortable in her parents' cabin was beyond her. _He says the Mountain's calling to him. He doesn't talk in his sleep often, but sometimes he just.. says weird stuff, you know?_  
“What do you think he means?”  
“What do you think who means?” Miles settled under the covers of the fold out and audibly shuddered at the sheets that hadn't warmed up just yet.  
“Waylon said that, Eddie says the Mountain calls to him. Is that something Murkoff did to him?”  
“Truth be told, I don't know how the nanomachines have affected Eddie. They've latched onto The Groom personality, but it's scaring him... don't really blame him.”  
“So... your Walrider, is it any different from Hope's?”  
“I don't know. I only saw it trying to chase me down and kill me to protect the sleeping host. It's only incredibly active when I'm asleep. It's kept me safe when I couldn't push myself any further. It's protected Eddie and Waylon.”  
“Has.. his manifested?”  
“...Yeah. Wasn't like mine. Looked... looked like something else. I don't know what stories they were feeding him or what stories he read growing up, maybe stuff about the Jersey Devil. But the nanomachines take on mythologies, the Murkoff scientists believed that using the nanomachines they could also investigate the supernatural.”  
“The Jersey Devil?” She'd heard the term, but she never really knew much about mythologies, never caught her interest.  
“Well, more like the Fables comics version of the Jersey Devil.” _Crossed with a horned Wendigo-_ Miles stopped himself from voicing the thought and quashed it down. No, The Groom didn't eat people. It wasn't the right track. “He says that it gives people what they deserve. Given the way he went to town on the people at Murkoff but not Waylon, despite the fact he fixed the coding to get the nanomachines infused with him, he might actually believe it.”  
“But if Waylon hadn't fixed the engine then would The Groom have ever existed?” Lisa found herself giving this all far too much thought.  
“Technically yes, but he was unknown beforehand. Now Eddie is aware, not that that's uncommon for people with personality mental disorders. I'm no shrink, I don't know which he has. But I doubt that he's got an Internal Self Helper alter, the Groom enjoys being in control too much.” Miles waved his hand. “Right now I'm being about as much help as a fart in a colander, I don't know shit about much of it. What I do know, is that now that Eddie's acknowledged the abilities of his nanomachines. It's a calculating hunter, he was born for it. Perhaps it adapts to its hosts... Look as fun as waxing poetic about your hubby's partner in crime is, I'm fucking bushed.”  
“...Mind if I stay down here?”  
“It's your house, Lisa. Do what you want.”  
“Thanks.” Lisa pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa down over herself and bundled up. She pulled it up over her shoulders and nuzzled into a pillow.  
“Y'know what we were talking about earlier?” Lisa hummed in response. “Waylon's right. He doesn't deserve you. You deserve better than all of this.” His speech slowly became a drawl, half awake. “Doesn't know what he's got...”  
“Dumbass.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Late nights, don't they stretch on forever?  
> You never thought that you would have to ask for help  
> It's alright, baby, it's just a little static on the line  
> That time is gonna figure out  
> You're gonna figure it out
> 
> Tell me honestly what you came here for  
> When you've had enough but you beg for more  
> And you talk so tough but you can't ignore  
> That you're done driving down a dead end road  
> Done driving down a dead end road"  
> Delta Rae - Dead End Road
> 
> Short chapter is short, but there will be more with these two down the road. (I didn't expect to walk into this fic and these two actually meeting but here we are)  
> Next chapter - The Groom begins his ascension to Godhood.
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	24. Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreams that plague Eddie keep him restless, even on the not so bad nights. The Groom won't be ignored any longer during the transformation, determined that his ascension is vital to defeat Murkoff and for Eddie's revenge. The couple venture deeper into the woods as Eddie is hopeful that this may get him some peace and quiet. What the two don't bargain for is how the rabbit hole they've been going down together has yet another twist in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _"I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live_  
>  Without my hand on his throat; I fight him always and still  
> Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy  
> How crazy I am  
> You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know  
> And I pray that you will  
> Fast as you can, baby runfree yourself of me  
> Fast as you can  
> I may be soft in your palm but I'll soon grow  
> Hungry for a fight, and I will not let you win  
> My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will  
> Disprove your faith in man  
> So if you catch me trying to find my way into your  
> Heart from under your skin  
> Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself  
> Fast as you can  
> Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself  
> Fast as you can"  
> 

Optimism was something that Eddie had grown out of. As a child he'd always tell himself whatever it took to get through the nights that dragged on too long. The way his eyes burned as the camera flashed whilst he was gagged and bound. He'd count the minutes, setting arbitrary milestones, observing patterns where none in reality existed. Something to focus on. These habits and coping mechanisms had worked for a while, but after Murkoff he became disillusioned with such things. What did it matter? He didn't find any comfort in the phrase 'this too like everything shall pass', because it felt never ending. Even after breaking free from the facility and the meds building their accumulative effect all he got for his trouble was a nigh constant headache and an inability to stomach anything that didn't have a strictly starchy base. Too many meals that had tasted wonderful were soon the cause of discomfort and sometimes - when he didn't think Waylon was paying attention – the reason why he'd lock himself in the bathroom until he'd finished having to up-heave the contents of his guts. He'd debated talking to Waylon about it, but he didn't want to complain. He should have been happy, right? All he could think of was that creeping dread. At least before it felt distant, now even though it was supposed to be something of a weapon or a tool for his use – it didn't feel right.  
Despite crawling back into the bed with Waylon that night he didn't sleep. He'd spent the entire night staring at the same place. He wasn't sure if he was hallucinating again. Spending so many years unable to trust your own mind and senses made things all the worse. Miles told him to trust it, to learn how to utilise it, so why did it feel so wrong? The way the lower jaw jerked as it spoke about meaningless surreality was the most jarring thing he'd ever seen. He'd seen terrible warped creatures in his dreams when he was a child, but this took the trophy - It'd spent the entire night telling him about the things they would do. Who would get what treatment. This beast was the Mountain it claimed. The worst part was he didn't think it was lying. And for a while it felt good. It felt cathartic. Burning them all in their own facility sounded like a great idea – and when the clarity set in he shook his head in horror and backed away from the idea. It held Waylon to a level that no other could attain. Even thought it acknowledged Waylon's gender as male, he was still it's bride. Regardless of Lisa being in the equation, Waylon was its bride. Was it because he was the one who fixed the machine that it held him in such high esteem? Without him, they wouldn't have been bonded and escaped the facility.

 

The nights that followed were similar. If he was awake The Groom would still speak to him about anything and everything, if he was asleep, he'd still see The Groom's horrifying new form in his dreams. The longer it carried on, the more its form twisted. The shoulders had broadened, the mane thicker and longer stretching down to its shoulders, upper arms and over its chest. The upper horns were constantly shifting, never the same for more than a couple of moments before adjusting. It'd gotten more muscular too, its power reflected in its physicality. Its thighs were almost as wide as Eddie's waist, the strides it took were massive and effortless. The Groom had always been animated, smiling with a smile that didn't reach the eyes, and now its eyes weren't even visible. Hidden under the cracked deer skull. The teeth were far too pronounced, especially those on the bottom jaw at the very back; too sharp and too big. This was a projection of him in some way wasn't it? The nano-machines bent and warped to whatever form the host gave it. He wished he didn't have a deep seated irrational hatred for Miles. Every time he looked at him - it was just that patronising sneer and quirk of his mouth and his god damn tone of voice – he wanted to punch him until he shut up. He knew so much but he wound up not telling him much of anything. So fucking helpful. _Hey big guy, let the nano-machines do their thing, team up with it – I'm off now bye!_ He didn't have any idea what he was doing either no doubt. Fuck him for making it sound so easy.

 

Waylon was at least affectionate, he was less likely to withhold his attention because he felt like someone was going to punish him for it. He was comfortable. Eddie had to wonder how long exactly that would last for if he told him about what was going on with The Groom. What if he became that creature? The nano-machines were changing people into pseudo-wendigos, would it be that much of a stretch to believe them capable of that? Probably, but sense wasn't always engaged. But this. This way he lived with Waylon, it was almost the perfect picture of a relationship he'd wanted. Even if both were just as awful at keeping up with regular meal times, not remembering to do laundry until the last minute and realise that they didn't have any clean clothes left – but they reminded each other. Eddie would only realise he should eat something when he noticed Waylon was dipping at the computer or getting maybe a bit snappy. They were crutches for each other. Did Waylon really know just how much he was relying on him? Perhaps, otherwise he probably would have left long before now, long before they could have gotten in too deep to consider something like that.  
Waylon's idea of entertainment seemed to be educating Eddie about the nigh odd twenty years of pop culture he'd been missing out on. All this spawned from Waylon making a weird noise after a suggestion that didn't make a whole lot of sense to Eddie. Waylon was absolutely horrified that Eddie didn't know who Skeletor was and he had to know just what the 'nyeh' noise was all about. It all seemed a bit childish, and quickly he realised he was watching a cartoon that Waylon grew up watching. It was very... _camp_. He had to wonder if anyone who watched it in the 80's realised that it was anything but straight, but he doubted that anyone would have given it that much thought outside of the queer community. Of course it wouldn't be... would it. He smirked to himself at the idea of Republican parents squirming to justify it, because after all, the only kind of gay men that existed were the kind of people his father and Uncle were. Disgusting people who abused children- He halted the train of thought, or at least tried to and clung tighter to Waylon- How could Waylon stay stationary for so long? How did he not get antsy?

 

“I need to move.” Eddie said flatly, despite his head draped back against the sofa.  
“Are you getting restless?” Waylon shifted and tried to prop himself up on his elbows. He'd been laid stretched out on the sofa, head on Eddie's lap with the man's fingers entwined in his hair. Eddie's hands were still very much there.  
“I don't feel like I've moved for days. It's too easy to want to sleep the days away.” Eddie's free hand pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can't be stagnant.”  
“You went for a run the other day-”  
“Waylon, I need fresh air. I need to be outside of this cabin for longer than a few minutes just to get something from the freezer in the shed.” He unlaced his fingers, though as tempting as the thought was to keep him there--  
“I know a good trail to walk. Whenever we did stews over the summer we'd set it on and go out for a couple of hours.”  
“...That sounds nice.” It did, maybe if they walked fast enough he'd stop seeing The Groom's beastly form lingering at the corner of his eye. He'd had enough with ghosts haunting him all his life, he didn't need _this_ one getting comfortable too.

It wasn't particularly warm out, but Eddie still only had a light jacket over his shirt and jumper. Waylon was wrapped up like it was closer to mid December than the week before November. The air was crisp and humid, all because of the cloud burst that had hit not long ago, but they both knew if they ventured further up the mountain they'd reach the patches of snow.  
Eddie was accustomed to the snow, especially when he was locked up in Murkoff's care. Every winter they'd still send them outside for an hour's exercise each day, didn't matter if it was hailing, raining or a full tilt blizzard going. He could still remember the week when he convinced himself he'd caught frost bite in his fingers from doing too many pull ups – all for the sake of keeping warm in the first place. That had gone down like a lead balloon. At least the Warden he'd been taken inside by wasn't a soulless piece of shit. He wasn't tall, but he had a stare that could curdle milk. Hips that were a little bit too wide, Eddie _knew_ he was hiding what he really was, but not even the higher ups dared push their luck with him. Eddie being the smart person he was had pushed him and got his comeuppance, all for the sake of trying to appear bigger than he was. It was all because of the same sort of primal fear the Warden emitted that Miles seemed to with his new additions. Maybe that Warden had seen it, or understood it, but there was no wiggle room allowed. Eddie'd convinced himself he hated him too. Even so, despite how he'd treated and spoken to that Warden in the past, he'd gently wrapped up his hands until he got the feeling back in them. They didn't get along, but there was a level of respect after that incident... He wondered if he'd made it out after the whole debacle. _Probably_. _Like anything could have stopped them from escaping_.  
Despite the chill nipping at his fingers even though they were in the jacket pockets, the two pushed on. Waylon's pace was more leisurely than Eddie would have liked. But he took broad strides as it was anyway, Waylon was probably used to walking slowly to make sure his kids could keep up with him. Soon he found Waylon's hand resting on the crook of his elbow, letting him take the lead. The path was easy to follow, sign posted, path thoroughly worn down and it followed a small brook. The sound of the trees shifting in the breeze and the running water was soothing to say the least. Most of the time when he came out to wander on his own he'd pilfered Waylon's iPod and set off. He didn't care for the sounds of the woods because even with the natural noises of the woodland, it wasn't loud enough. It wasn't enough to drown everything out until he could barely hear himself think. If anything the silence between them now gave his mind the chance to fill in the blanks, think of the next playlist he'd make for himself and what he wanted. _I wanna run, to feel again, to be no one, To run-_ a smirk cracked at the corner of his mouth as his strides grew bigger, making Waylon pick up the pace. He'd been lounging around for too long, the last thing he wanted to do was take this slowly and lazily too. What Waylon had perhaps decided was as a romantic walk for them was a way to blow off steam for Eddie.  
“Keep up.” He chided, all with that smug smirk that made Waylon realise Eddie was indeed planning to do something – and in his experience it wasn't always clever things.  
“Eddie I don't-” Before he could further voice his protest Eddie dropped the engineer's grip on his arm and set off in a jog ahead of him. “Eddie! Damnnit...”  
“We've spent the past day doing what you want, it's my turn.” He called over his shoulder, bolting up the hill.  
“My ankle still twinges-”  
“If you don't use it you'll lose it.” Waylon grumbled and tried to catch up. As he reached the top of the hill he caught a glimpse of Eddie stretching and grinning. He didn't really want to play a game of tag with Eddie all things considered, that first game they'd played in Mt. Massive had left something to be desired.  
“What did you have in mind..?”  
“No idea.” He shrugged, still smirking. “I'm restless, I need to do more than the barest minimum.”  
“This trail goes on for a while, don't wear yourself out so early.”  
Eddie made a small 'psht' noise, but despite his apparent protests he stayed put waiting for Waylon to catch up. The engineer reached the top of the hill, albeit a little out of breath, but no worse for wear; Mt. Massive had proved to him just what fear could do to inspire a sudden burst of stamina he never knew he had. The woodland sounds seemed louder than when they'd left the cabin, or perhaps that was because he'd been rendered hyper-aware of what his surroundings were. Eddie was glancing around, probably sizing up the area and debating where to drag him off to next. As much as Waylon walked through this part of the woods with his kids, he actually knew very little about what lied off the beaten track. How much of the woods did Eddie actually know? Very rarely had he come across deer when they were walking on this path, but by the looks of it he didn't see any parts of the bracken that had been especially trodden down; that had to have meant that he disappeared off to different parts each time. If Miles hadn't said that Eddie's nano-machines allowed him to map areas he'd be terrified that he'd get lost – not that he wasn't regardless, he knew how temperamental technology could be. Knowing what he did now, so much more made sense, but it also left him with far more questions that either neither of them knew the answer to or Eddie wasn't much in the mood for sharing. Knowing Eddie, it was probably the latter. But then again after seeing that horrifying scribble Eddie produced he was pretty sure he'd want to just shut that thing away in a lock box and never acknowledge it's existence ever again.  
He must have been in his head for a little too long as Eddie grabbed his hand and started walking once again. It said everything about them, Waylon too worried to stray from the path he could clearly see and there was Eddie boldly going wherever he wanted with reckless abandon. The woods were pretty, and the idea of what sights it could hold was tempting, but the fear of getting lost was always going to get in the way.  
“Where have you been going?” Waylon finally asked. Eddie's strides were long and the path was passing him by quicker than he realised.  
“What do you mean?” Eddie looked at him like he was speaking gibberish.  
“To find those deer.” He felt warmth creeping into his cheeks, internally trying to silence the mental berating he was giving himself for not being more clear. “I've never come across any on this route.”  
“There are other paths you know,” The older man shrugged. “They're not as well tended to as this one, but they're around. Sometimes it's just more interesting to go off road.” There was a pause and Eddie looked at Waylon, watching him chew on his lip, doing some sort of mental gymnastics. “Don't tell me you're scared to.” He smirked.  
“I don't know this area that well-”  
“So you do.” He lilted.  
“What?”  
“Have a walk off the beaten track with me.” Not that he gave Waylon much of a chance to put up a fuss. He gave his hand a light squeeze and let it drop as he walked ahead. Meticulously he scanned the area, eyes narrowed as he took in each detail trying to recall a route. As nice as the glade was that Waylon was leading them to, he knew some place better.  
“Eddie, how long is this going to take-”  
“Stop worrying already, trust me, it's not that bad.” Eddie shook his head and stepped up onto a fallen trunk. “You can't tell me you aren't the slightest bit intrigued.” When Waylon seemed to hesitate Eddie cocked his head, “We've spent the past few days watching what you want, come and see the things I want to show you.”  
It wasn't like he could argue with that. Though if Waylon did have his way he'd have slept until the entire debacle had blown over, so getting out and about was probably for the best. Eddie wasn't from the same generation he was, he didn't have all the gadgets he'd grown up with so it was either go out or be bored. What a horrible ultimatum.  
Waylon's shoulders sagged and made his way up onto the collapsed tree stump, Eddie helped him up with a growing beam.  
“If we keep heading that way until we'll reach a rock face and then we go right.”  
“For how long?”  
“Not sure.” Eddie shrugged and the hopped off the other side of the trunk onto the bracken. It crunched under his feet, kicking up a fresh batch of wet forest smell.  
“What do you mean, you're not _sure_?” Waylon lowered himself to sit on the trunk and then eased himself down, Eddie was squinting into the distance, seemingly unflapped by this.  
“I can't judge distance for shit.” He replied airly, clearly only half paying attention.  
“Then how do you drive?!” Rapidly Waylon was starting to regret this decision.  
“Mm.. That's a poor way to put it.” Eddie absently took his hand once more and started forwards. “I can't put words to it. I can say when it's been as far as we need, but as soon as you start to throw in units of measurement my brain gives up. I can't judge it by those means. I don't know why, they've just never made sense to me.”  
“But you sew-”  
“I've got a visual reference on hand of how long or short something is. Tape measures are a god send. Funnily enough when you're driving you don't have a meter stick and I'm sure if I hung out of the car just to say how far it is to a stop sign someone might just call the cops.”  
“So.. you can judge it, just not in the same way everyone else does.”

“Something like that. Though I don't say it avoid sounding like the.. what's the term people use now.. Special-est of snowflakes? No one likes a smartass.”  
“And yet.” Waylon nudged him playfully. “I'm never letting you drive again, though.”  
“By the seems of it, you need me to drive more. You drive like an old woman. Oh no! Someone's coming towards me on the opposite lane, I'd better slow down! Oh dear, a little bit of rain, it's still the middle of the day, I'd better turn my headlights on.”  
“Are you making fun of my anxiety?” Waylon pouted. But he wasn't pouting. Because pouting was what his kids did when he said they couldn't have something. This was a legitimate reason to be annoyed.  
“No, I just find it irritating- that sounds worse than it should do- ngh- It's not something you can help, you are naturally a nervous person and I like to get from point a to b as quickly as possible. Sometimes risks are good, but you see risks where there are none.” Eddie paused, recognising a particular mark in a tree. - _Darkened skies. It's breath heavy. Chest heaving. It charged. He jumped out of the way. The buck hit the tree shattering a patch of bark. He wanted to feel bones snap. Tear flesh-_ The man shook his head and tried to focus on the scene ahead of him. “Like this. I know the area thanks to.. _him_. We can't get lost. Yet here you are frightened to leave the path you've always walked.”  
“I like familiarity.”  
“So do I every once in a while. But you stick to it because it's safe.”  
“Exactly.”  
“But it's also safe with me, because I know where I'm going.” Again, Waylon couldn't argue. As easy as it was to try to invalidate Eddie's decisions he knew it was cruel. “Do you see where I'm going with this?”  
“Do I at least get a safeword if I want to go back?”  
“Just say haven.”  
  
The bracken and undergrowth was thick in this part of the woods, and Waylon found himself thankful that he'd worn his thicker jeans and walking boots. Granted they still needed a bit more breaking in, thanks to Murkoff hiring him they hadn't been back to the cabin that summer. Despite how cold it had been when they left it was becoming oddly humid the deeper they trudged. The birds weren't alone in their chorus as Waylon was sure he could hear insects joining in, the clatter of the highest points of the trees bending in the breeze and lightly colliding. The air was thick with that slightly damp earthy scent, most of the leaves had fallen and some were now mixed with the mud beneath their feet and others had fallen and grown crisp, curling in on themselves as they slowly disintegrated. Most of the deep mud patches Eddie just casually stepped over and gently helped Waylon cross if it was too wide for him. The most memorable part was the two planks that were laid across a thin but deep trench running back towards where the river flowed. The sound of the water had quietened mostly, the water running under the plank was closer to a trickle than a connecting stream. He had to wonder just how long that plank had been there, if it was Eddie that set it down in his exploring or if it'd always been there. It didn't look rotted enough to have been very old, it was still an off yellowy beige colour. It didn't creak when they crossed it. Eddie still held firmly onto his hand, despite the gap not being particularly wide. It still brought some warmth to Waylon, knowing that he was still looking out for him what might have been considered a stifling amount, but he had to admit that he liked it. Part of him wanted to come through this route over the summer. The wild flowers would have made it look even more stunning. He wondered if Eddie thought about it that much, after all he did seem to have that abrasive hyper-masculine thing going on... and yet he sewed and was a die hard romantic. He could picture the embarrassed response: _I like what I like._ And would probably sulk after he pointed it out. It may not have been the route that Waylon picked, but he was starting to realise that even so he still got to spend time with Eddie. What a sap he was. Not like it wasn't showing on Eddie's features either. He looked relaxed and about a world away, stuck in his own head again probably.

The rock face was just a little overbearing compared to the rest of the area. It was caked in moss and dirt, probably a hill that had been eroded over time with the weather. To the right laid the route that Eddie had mentioned, but it wasn't.. as picturesque as the rest of the route had been. To the left the woodland thrived, new growth was visible.  
“I'd.. like to go to the left. I like the look of that route.”  
Eddie just shook his head, the dreamy look that'd been plastered on his face beforehand was long gone. “There's not much over there. Leads right to a dead end.”  
“In the middle of a forest?”  
“It gets too steep to climb.” The focus was back, although he seemed to be very aware of something. “There's nowhere to get a good foothold.”  
“That's a shame.” Waylon frowned. “What's over this way? It... looks a bit.. mm.”  
“It's better than it seems.” For a split second his expression softened. It was the way his jaw tightened when he looked to a crooked tree that made Waylon's skin crawl.  
“What's wrong?”  
“The Groom.” Eddie replied simply.  
As the two passed the gnarled and moss covered tree Waylon finally caught what Eddie had been talking about. Hung on one of the stubs that had been a branch was the hollowed out skull of a deer. Only the faintest traces of flesh still clung hopelessly to the bone, a few of the teeth were missing and one antler was missing a section, the splintering was that of a high impact. The chip in the tree way back before the trench? He knew he was assuming a bit much, but it still baffled him how Eddie managed to kill a fully grown buck.  
“Does... he help?”  
“I wouldn't be able to catch them otherwise.”  
“I've been meaning to ask but... how _do_ you catch them?”  
Eddie's jaw tightened again and Waylon couldn't help but feel like he'd stepped on one of those emotional mines that would wipe out the board. But upon closer inspection Waylon realised that he wasn't angry, he wasn't scowling it was more a look of concern.  
“It's not pretty.” He rubbed at the nape of his neck, pulling Waylon away from the deer skull. “And it takes a while. It's part of the reason why I'm gone for so long. I wear it out. Chase it around the forest, but if it's a buck that's when it gets complicated.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw The Groom stood there looking smug. Or about as smug as you could look when you wore the skull of a dead animal for a helmet. He was as clear as day to him, and yet he knew that Waylon couldn't see him at all. He hadn't learned how to make him manifest solidly at will, not the same way that Miles did. The Groom was a law unto himself. Naturally. Especially since he'd been prattling on about Godhood. The Groom was now apparently The Mountain. Another name lingered at the tip of his tongue, but if ever he focused too much on it it was long forgotten. He always got the impression that if he referred to The Groom as it he'd be sorry. He clicked his tongue. That smug fucker was just itching to start another hunt. They didn't _need_ another buck, the freezer was still packed full. He just wanted to do it for the sake of it, to feel more powerful. To show off to his bride. Eddie wouldn't stand for it.  
“How so?”  
“The Groom.. helps. It gets very messy.”

Waylon nodded slowly, given how The Groom had treated his victims back at Murkoff before he'd warped into this monstrous form, he almost dreaded to think what it'd be like to see it. He'd only seen an impression of it, but whatever he was now he'd managed to shake Eddie. Even if Eddie wasn't the type to scare easily, he had a habit of working himself up over things. Maybe it wasn't so bad?  
  


The moss was thick everywhere, almost a little bit slippery as they made their way through. Many of the trees had either collapsed or were bent and gnarled in some way. It was an odd contrast to the rest of the forest. What was more peculiar were the ridges in the mud. They weren't new in the slightest, but it looked as though there'd been heavy machinery through this area at some point. Maybe it was a logging site at one time? Eddie moved quickly, constantly looking back over his shoulder every once in a while and huffing to himself. He kept a firm grip on Waylon's hand, almost just that little bit too tight, but he wasn't sure if it was for the sake of keeping Waylon close or to remind him that he was there. What unsettled him the most was when he looked behind him he could see dips in the mud and moss forming and disappearing. His blood ran cold. Quickly he looked back to Eddie, from walking so fast and for so long he was sure there was already a sweat there, but the blanched look to his cheeks confirmed his worries. He wanted to say 'Haven' and leave it here, but there was something important Eddie wanted to show him. Whatever that may have been.

 

 _You're testing his faith in you?_ The Groom purred, _How sweet. Has he not already proven that he is our darling and ours alone? Such a paranoid boy you are_  
'Shut up.'  
_What's the worst that would happen? Our bride exists in a constant state of fight or flight. He will always be nervous._  
'He's all that's keeping you in check. It's not fair to keep him in the dark any more.'  
_You believe that he has power over me?_  
'He tricked you into helping him escape. You didn't want to leave.'  
The Groom just seemed to chuckle at the idea. _He proved himself worthy. And in doing so confirmed that you are not worthy, not until I ascend to my rightful throne._  
'You're talking shit.'  
_If so, why do you watch your back? Why do you fear the consequences of letting things take their intended course?_  
'There'd be nothing left if you had your way.'  
_Destruction breeds creation. Humans have been on this earth for such a short time and dare to believe they understand all. You have known but a fraction of what this world is capable of._  
'You're just machines that've latched onto my mania. Nothing more.'

The impressions in the dirt grew closer. Eddie's eyes widened as he felt an exhale run down the nape of his neck. It was just a hallucination. That's all it was. And yet Waylon gripped at his arm and kept him moving forwards. The two found themselves in what was possibly once a glade, the trees. The light was strong in the area, reflecting off the particles that hung in the air. Once during the summer months it might have looked beautiful. But there was something tainted about the area. The footsteps behind them silenced and Eddie stood stock still, eyes wide. He'd been mentioning The Groom more and more, part of Waylon had hoped that once the medication kicked in that he'd see the last of him. But since Miles' visit he suddenly became important again. Something Eddie couldn't shake or let go of and as such became something that wouldn't _let_ him shake off.  
The static grew audible and Waylon winced, noticing what at first seemed like a cloud of gnats buzzing ahead of him. Soon the swarm grew bigger, clustered closer together. It was just an impression at first. Almost like a cloud of smoke ahead of him that shifted with the breeze. Taking in the scene further, Waylon noticed a fallen tree that had been carved. The grooves and ridges were deep. Spiral patterns and simplistic drawings that trailed up and along, covering the entire expanse. The swarm settled just above it and soon he could see a torso fabricating. It was like watching a nightmarish integration as it built itself up. The creature was huge. A swollen bicep flexed and the arm and hand attached reached for what had seemed to be a simple stick laid against the wood. Like the 'throne' before them it was also etched with patterns. The lower torso and legs formed next, thick with what was possibly supposed to be fur, as jet black as the rest of the body ahead of them. The hooves were huge and Waylon realised that they were the same size as the imprints in the ground behind them. He shuddered as the skull formed, almost like wires and sinew weaving together in front of their eyes. The hollow eyes they were faced with made his skin crawl, especially when he saw what he assumed was its eyes open, showing red the size of a pin head hidden in the darkness of the helm. The creature slouched in its 'throne', resting its head on its knuckles. Despite the ominous air there didn't seem to be anything threatening about its body language. Its shoulders gently shifted as its chest rose and fell, imitating the act of breathing. It was composed of a swarm of nano-machines, Waylon's technically inclined mind tried to tell him, and yet it looked ghostlike and solid at the same time. Just like Miles' Walrider.  
“ _Darling._ ” It almost sung, but the voice was deeper than he remembered the Groom sounding in the asylum. Now it wasn't constrained by the limits of Eddie's vocal chords, only his imagination; which Waylon was discovering was a place best left alone. “ _It's been too long_.”  
Waylon looked to Eddie. The man was frozen, doubled over himself like the first time he'd met Miles. A cold sweat dripping from his forehead and panicked breathing.  
“What are you doing to him?!” Yelling at the Groom was never a good idea as he'd learned in the past, but yet here he was.  
“ _The Catalyst is fine, I promise, darling._ ” The creature sat up, no longer quite so leisurely in its posture. “ _This is the first time he's projected me whilst awake. It can take quite a toll. He will be perfectly fine._ ”  
Waylon bit his lip as he looked down at the man, he looked like he was in pain, but The Groom sounded so sure of himself. He needed him to exist, he wouldn't put him in any danger would he?  
“Why are we here? This was supposed to be just... an afternoon out.”  
“ _Am I not allowed to spend time with you, either? The Catalyst and I are two sides of the same coin. Arguably, I long for you more._ ”  
“The last time we spoke you gave me this.” Waylon's eyes narrowed and gestured to the fading bruise on his face. “Somehow that doesn't scream 'loving'. I don't want to be around you. You lash out like a child and Eddie has to clean up your mess.”  
The creature jerked forward, its free hand clutching the arm of the mockery of a throne and sunk somewhat, a low hum that sounded like a revving engine.  
“ _I was foolish. Not what I was meant to be. I was a perversion._ ”  
Waylon folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “So what are you supposed to be? Walriders act upon their 'catalyst's' instinct, yet you have a mind of your own. Why doesn't Miles'.”  
“ _It was the way Murkoff wished it to be. Docile and easy to control. What they considered to be a perversion was our norm._ ”  
“...Like the Wendigos?”  
“ _Those they considered heretics were not lying when they said Murkoff awoke something in the Mountain. They breathed life back into me. Allowed me to ascend once more. I am not what I should be yet, but soon, darling and then we may be together as we should._ ”  
“What are you?”  
“ _You only need know me as your Groom, darling. There's nothing else to know._ ”  
“No. That's not good enough. I want to know what I'm getting into. It's not that simple and I won't be brushed aside so easily.”  
“ _Tch. Stubborn one aren't you darling?_ ” The Groom rose from the throne and made its way towards Waylon. The engineer stepped between the swarm and Eddie, brows dipped. “ _I am the Mountain. I have been called many things, some blasphemous and rude._ ”  
“Then what is Miles' Walrider?”  
“ _It is a perversion of an Alp. A creature of nightmares. Sometimes likened to a vampire but it is in actuality closer to an incubus. Murkoff weakened it by destroying its evil eye. The malicious nature had been removed._ ”  
“...But it killed people-”  
“ _Protecting its host from those that had harmed it or would do so._ ”  
“...So what about you? What are you? You're not an Alp too are you?”  
“ _Woodwose. A Mountain spirit. More commonly known as Satyr through to creatures such as Bigfoot._ ”  
“So.. Was Eddie lying when he said that he could hear the Walrider speaking to him?”  
“ _No. He was just incorrect. What he heard was me._ ”  
“And because it wasn't a Walrider it produced... they ditched him.”  
“ _My first few days were a haze. I remembered small details. I recalled his name. I remembered your face. How panicked you looked. I remembered how you stalled to the point of the Murkoff supervisors making their passive threats.... It didn't take long for the facility to breakdown. I could finally give those monsters what they deserved. The catalyst corrupted my purpose however. I was still too dazed. Too young. Corrupted by his desires._ ”  
“What is your purpose?”  
“ _Whatever I so choose._ ” The creature lilted, purring lowly as it stepped closer to Waylon. It's large hand cupped his cheek and even if it was only composed of a nano-machine swarm it felt so real. Cold but real.  
“You can't exist without him though.”  
“ _Not like this. We are one and the same and yet not. He is my catalyst._ ”  
“Did.. You exist before him?”  
“ _I am The Mountain._ ”  
“Which _one_? Mount Massive?”  
“ _No_.”  
“But... Murkoff woke you up.”  
“ _They awoke many things within than mountain. Not all of it was native to those ranges. Some had been stolen and brought there with the Nazis and their Lucid Dreaming experiments._ ”  
“You're from Europe?”  
“ _Some call me the Turnip Counter._ ” There was an air of a sneer in his voice as he retracted his hand. “ _I am The Lord of the Mountain._ _Krakonoš_ _._ ”  
“....Why are you the Turnip Counter?”  
“ _I abducted a princess and brought her to my mountain. She was deeply lonely, since she liked turnips I enchanted some to turn them into friends and family. But as they rotted so did my magic. She made me count them all and whilst she did that she escaped.. I gained the name R_ _ü_ _bezahl_ ”  
“What is it with you and kidnapping women?” Waylon fought back the urge to laugh. Grew infatuated with a woman and then was tricked by them. No wonder he had such a temper with him.  
“ _You are getting off track._ ”  
“Is that why you latched onto me? I remind you of.. her?”  
“ _I cannot say. Perhaps it's because you were the first person in that facility to look upon us with such sorrow. I could sense your regret. If you hadn't tried to speak with me I daren't think what might have happened to you, darling. I was so angry and hurt. What I might have done- What I have done. It's unforgivable.”_  
“I punched you.”  
“ _Really? I thought I had been merely bitten by a gnat._ ”  
“Don't patronise me, I could.. do something.” Despite the hollow eyes and the cracked skull he wore there was something oddly charming about him. He claimed to be part of Eddie and yet he told stories of a time he wasn't.  
“ _You have a great deal of luck on your side. I'm sure you would be resourceful enough to do something_.”  
“Stop flirting with me, will Eddie be alright?”  
“ _He may be shocked. But the appearance of the Wendigos will beckon in a revival of Murkoff's illicit actions once more. As unpleasant as this is, he will need me._ ”  
“I- don't” Eddie gritted his teeth, clenching his fist. “You're a- fucking parasite. I didn't _want you_. You- fucked up so much-”  
“ _You think I enjoy being confined to live in your gloomy little head for the rest of your days?_ ” The creature stepped away from Waylon, crouching down in front of Eddie. “ _I am bound to you. I am stuck with you just as you are stuck with me._ ” The jaw rattled as it hissed at him. “ _Do not think for one moment that I am pleased with this either._ ”  
“Take a god damn seat for the pity parade-”  
“Enough!” Waylon snapped. His hands were open raised just above his hips. “I've heard enough. From both of you. You two are going to have to learn how to cohabit or this isn't going to work for anyone. If we're not working together then Murkoff gets what it wants. Rübezahl-”  
“ _Krakonoš_ ”  
“-Krakonoš, if you don't help Eddie then you don't get to give Murkoff what they deserve. Eddie, if you don't pull your weight then you won't have your revenge. And if neither of you sort it out then I'm out. I'm gone. I can't watch you tear each other apart.”  
“Tch- Of course, make me act like I can control this. Like I've been doing it to be a hindrance on you-”  
“That isn't what I'm saying, I know you can't. Krakonoš' appearance is enough to cement that. But he is a part of you and you can't just ignore him any more. You can't just shut your eyes and hope he goes away. Everything you do is affected by your mental health and now Krakonoš, too. We'll all learn to cope together and make it work. If I'm willing to make that promise are you?”  
“ _No more running, Gluskin._ ” The creature scoffed, settling back on its throne. It was pathetic all of this grandstanding, and yet it seemed to be the only thing that would sink in. Words only spoke so many volumes but action could always drown out the decibels. Eddie was right to bring Waylon to this place, to investigate it, Waylon was the only one that could reel him in. As much as he claimed it to only be true for him, he couldn't see how dependent he was on Waylon's support. More likely he didn't want to admit it. “ _I'll always be here._ ”  
Waylon glanced up and pointed at the Groom, his gaze fixated on him in a silent warning. Slowly the creature began disintegrating the exact same way it had formed earlier. The static hymn had grown silent leaving the two alone in the tainted glade. Physically at least. He could feel a hint of something lingering, although that might have been because of the silence that was hanging between Waylon and Eddie.

  
“...I'm so tired.” The man whispered, wrenching his eyes shut. Eddie could barely move, part of him wondered just how in the hell Miles managed to cope with manifesting the Walrider so soon after they bonded.  
“I know.” Waylon soothed, running his hand on Eddie's shoulder. “Let's get back home, okay?”  
Eddie gave a small grunt in response and allowed Waylon to help him to his feet. It was in moments like this that Eddie forgot just how strong Waylon actually was, he groaned as he heaved the man up, but still managed to support him with an arm over his shoulder. He was such a passive man that Eddie had always seen him as more feminine, perhaps it was his sickness that warped it all and he'd never realised, but the crease in Waylon's brow and the way he gritted his teeth in concentration as he hauled them forward reminded Eddie just how strong of a jaw line he actually had. He always made himself seem so much smaller and yet here he was. He was beautiful. And this time he didn't want to take a pill in the hopes it would chase the thought away. There was no shame in admitting that he was hopelessly infatuated with this anxiously determined flake.  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> _"Sometimes my mind don't shake and shift_  
>  But most of the time, it does  
> And I get to the place where I'm begging for a lift  
> Or I'll drown in the wonders and the was  
> And I'll be your girl, if you say it's a gift  
> And you give me some more of your drugs  
> Yeah, I'll be your pet, if you just tell me it's a gift  
> 'Cause I'm tired of whys, choking on whys,  
> Just need a little because, because  
> I let the beast in and then;  
> I even tried forgiving him, but it's too soon  
> So I'll fight again, again, again, again, again.  
> And for a little while more, I'll soar the  
> Uneven wind, complain and blame  
> The sterile land  
> But if you're getting any bright ideas, quiet dear  
> I'm blooming within  
> Fast as you can, baby wait watch me, I'll be out  
> Fast as I can, maybe late but at least about  
> Fast as you can leave me, let this thing  
> Run its route  
> Fast as you can"  
> Fiona Apple - Fast As You Can
> 
> The song Eddie was thinking of in the chapter was 'Run' by Delta Rae, a really great an uplifting song and I highly recommend listening to it. I also referenced an Outlast OC known as The Warden host to Walrider Red, a five foot genderless can of whoopass; you can find their tumblr [here](http://thewarden-at-mtmassive.tumblr.com/) and the mun does super awesome artwork of Outlast, especially loving their silent hill crossover stuff right now. Hoooo yiss.
> 
> The next chapter hopefully won't be quite so intense as this was only meant to be some introspective stuff and this suddenly all came out. Next chapter is all about some festive Park family fun with their new additions Uncle Eddie and some unexpected visits from Miles getting thrown to the proverbial wolves.
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	25. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas rolls around quicker than expected, Waylon and Eddie are invited to join the family for the season. Waylon adores the idea of seeing them, but Eddie has his reservations. Miles confronts Eddie on his growing jealousy and Waylon gets some unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> "It's so good to learn that right outside your window  
> There's only friendly fields and open roads  
> And you'll sleep better when you think you've stepped back from the brink  
> And found some peace inside yourself, laid down your heavy load
> 
> It gets alright to dream at night  
> Believe in solid skies and slate-blue earth below  
> But when you see him, you'll know
> 
> It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward  
> With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand  
> And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you  
> And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land"
> 
> Holy frick, this took so long to do. Sorry for the delay, things have been a bit strange at work and home, but I hope it was worth it!

Days fed into weeks and weeks fed into months. Despite being there for so long the cabin felt comfortable but not quite like home. It had a similar feel, perhaps in some deep recesses of his brain he could still smell Lisa and the kids in the place from their last visit. The sheets didn't smell like her, not that he really knew exactly what it smelt like but he didn't think of her when he closed his eyes. He could hear the TV in the other room, it wasn't especially loud, but definitely enough to hear the bass rumbling through the floor and walls. Perhaps Eddie wouldn't be so deaf if he didn't listen to music so loud?

Waylon grumbled as he rolled onto his side. The digital clock that he'd once used here had been since unplugged and facing away from the bed. _It makes a buzzing noise all night. I don't know how you can sleep through it_. Eddie had complained; problem was until Eddie had pointed it out he hadn't noticed it and then it became all he could hear. Instead, there was something far more irritating in it's place, a wind up alarm clock. The ticking had annoyed him almost as much as the digital clock, but at least there was a discernible rhythm to it that he could pick up on. The cabin had become a little more... rustic in some ways, ironic really that Eddie had made himself comfortable enough to start making his own mark on the place. But why shouldn't he? The programmer stretched and felt his body jolt with the popping of his joints, all allowing him to stretch just that little bit further. The light-headedness that came with it was like a drug that left him sleepy and content. Really this was the best he'd been sleeping since Murkoff although he chalked that up to the nights where he found himself exhausted from the encounters with The Groom. The following nights he'd sleep like the dead. It had been one of those nights. Admittedly he could feel dull aches all over from the last encounter, a bow-legged sort of content daze.  
He swung his legs out of the bed with a smug little smirk at the memory and made his way to the kitchen.

 

Snow had begun to fall the month beforehand, but it had been patchy, only now did it completely cover the woodlands around them. Almost every day there was a fire crackling in the cabin and whilst it was sometimes a bit stifling he knew just how cold it would get without it.  
Lo and behold, Eddie was stood in the kitchenette making pancakes. Whilst he couldn't flip them quite as well as Lisa could, instead having to use a spatula just to do it, they tasted just as good. He had to wonder how long the man had been awake for. Eddie's sleeping patterns were erratic, some nights he'd sleep soundly and others he'd be awake at the crack of dawn - today was the latter.

“Couldn't sleep?” Waylon set the kettle onto boil and grabbed a mug from the cupboard.  
“You were insistent on stealing the duvet.” Eddie's eyebrows rose, feigning true annoyance. “The radiator didn't want to work and I couldn't see where to bleed the system-”  
“I'm sorry- there's a switch,” Waylon gestured flicking it with one hand whilst the over vaguely gestured to its location in the room, “It's uhm, shit I think it's by the- uhm.. words. The place where the-cupboard. That's it.” Eddie snorted. “Give me a break I've only just woken up and I haven't had my life giving fluid. The gears are stuck for a while.”  
“I forgot that you'd modernized just about everything you could in this place.” The older man shrugged and flipped over the pancake, a pleasing little hiss coming out either side.  
“Lisa's parents wanted to make it as low maintenance as possible, they can't do as much as they used to – although they did a lot so that's probably more than the average 70 year olds – cost a lot but it's been worth it.”  
“They're 70?” Eddie's brows rose again. He'd never met Lisa's parents but he could tell who they were by a photo of Lisa with two older people. Lisa didn't look much younger in the photo than when he'd met her.  
“Black don't crack.” Waylon shrugged with an amused smile. The kettle boiled and he poured it into the mug. There was a coffee machine, but Waylon enjoyed his instant coffee too much – all about convenience. “I meant to talk to you about them actually-” He paused when he noticed a shift in Eddie's demeanor. “No, nothing like that, it's not a bad thing. “When I was messaging Lisa last night she said that she wanted to get the family together for Christmas.”  
“You wanted to go back?” Eddie turned off the hob and tilted the pancake out of the pan onto a plate. “...I guess I'd be okay up here for a little while-”  
Waylon's eyes widened as he swallowed his first gulp of coffee. “I'm not leaving you on your own. She said you were invited too.”

It was the blank stare that made his gut wrench. Like something wasn't getting through to him that he was considered part of the family at this point, even if perhaps not to Lisa he definitely was to Waylon. When was the last time Eddie had been included in something that would be considered a typical family event? He set the mug down and put his hand on Eddie's upper arm, gently soothing it. The fabric of the jumper was much softer than he realised; by the looks of it, he'd have considered it a more coarse texture.  
“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Eddie shrugged off Waylon's hand and rubbed the nape of his neck, shrinking away from the idea. “Especially with The Groom being what he is now-- how can I be trusted to be around them?”  
“Because you never once laid a finger on them. You protected them. You've protected me. Give yourself some credit, you're not as dangerous as you think you are.” Despite Eddie backing away, Waylon maintained the small distance between them. Admittedly he felt like he was backing him into a corner in more ways than one, but he _knew_ , he just _knew_ if given the chance Eddie would more than prove himself. Reaching up, he nuzzled into the man's neck, arms looping around his waist. “I want you there.”  
He knew that perhaps he was putting his own wants above everyone else's, but Eddie knew first hand what he'd been through. If things got too overwhelming then he could take a time out with him and go for a wander. This would be the first family gathering since Murkoff, honestly he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to it. No one would be expecting him to be pretending like everything was normal, but there was always the fear. Especially if _his_ parents showed up.  
“There you go, twisting my arm. So cruel of you.” His voice was low and the rumble was so close Waylon could feel it in his own chest. Despite his words he pulled him closer, dipping his head to rest it on the younger man's. “How could I ever say no to you when you say it like that?”

 

The next few hours felt surreal. He watched Waylon packing up a small wheeled suitcase. It only had a few essentials, underwear, socks a few jumpers – really he didn't know why Waylon was bothering as they were headed back to what was technically his family home. Did he really feel so attached to the cabin now that it was like going on holiday? Eddie felt his chest tighten at the thought and bit his lip as he turned hurriedly to the wardrobe. He'd shaken everything up for Waylon, really he'd been a whole lot more trouble than he'd have been willing to put up with, and yet here he was making space for him within the family. What did he do to deserve this?  
He tried to silence the thoughts as he put his shirts and jumpers and bare necessities into the duffle bag. _Be practical. You're running low on your prescription, you can get more whilst you're there. Maybe someone will be able to help you find something more effective._ He berated himself, make it practical, take the emotions that are too hard to think about away until you can. Put it in the box that everything else is stored in. He wasn't sure if it was the meds that was making him feel so emotional about it, but Waylon had had that effect on him for longer than he cared to admit. What was it about admitting it that was so terrifying? Anyone with eyes could tell how much of an influence Waylon had over him. He knew the younger man was smitten with him and yet saying what he felt still felt like he wasn't allowed and not because Waylon wouldn't allow him. If anything when Waylon mumbled little endearments at him whether it be the two of them on the sofa, first thing in the morning or even in the post-coital bliss, the words were there in his mouth but they wouldn't leave him. They stayed entrenched, rooted to the spot and determined to make him feel like his mouth was swollen with all the unsaid things he so desperately wanted to. How many times had he laid there, opening his mouth to reply only to find the words die before he could let it out, forcing him to close his mouth and sigh heavily instead. All he could do was hold Waylon tighter and nuzzle harder into him; hoping and praying that somehow the words in his head would find a way to mitosis their way into Waylon's head. It wasn't enough, but it was all he could do. How did the Groom say it so carelessly? Promises of love and affection spilled freely from such a monstrous form and whereas once they may have been honey to lure flies into its trap, now that promise of honey was made good on. _How?_ It frustrated him to no end. _How can a monster say its affections easier than me? Maybe I'm more of a monster than he is?_

Waylon cocked his head at him, noticing that Eddie had been staring into the wardrobe for a little longer than perhaps he should have been. He gave a small thin-lipped smile as he approached the other and looked in the wardrobe. There were a few jumpers left, the shirt that he chopped wood in and some raggedy jeans. By the looks of it Eddie had picked the best-looking items of clothing.  
“I'm.. not going to be that asshole that tells you to be yourself, because right now your heads gonna be screaming at you to be anything but yourself.” Waylon pressed his forehead into Eddie's upper arm. “But you don't need to be your best self for them.”  
“What if I don't feel like I can trust myself?”  
“Remember the safe words system we started using?” Eddie nodded silently, “we'll use that same system. You feel like something's too much we can go for a walk.”  
Eddie reached for Waylon, his arm gently curling around his side. “You're far too good to me.”

Waylon leant up and kissed Eddie's jaw, a small dismissive hum leaving him. Packing was briefly forgotten as they cleared off the bed.

 

 

Travel light. That was something Eddie was always good at. He'd learned enough of it over the years, make it easier to just up sticks and leave at a given notice. The cabin wasn't supposed to be permanent, and yet it felt like rather than returning home it was just a trip to the extended family over Christmas. Maybe it was because Eddie needed to get out of that place and realise that there was a world outside of what he was seeing. But given how many problems he was dealing with already was it any wonder he was more inclined to be concerned about himself? But perhaps it would be nice. He was worried it would be consistently awkward, worried about things to say to everyone; especially Lisa. He winced and looked to the radio dock. Waylon had set up the iPod dock for him again, the ipod itself charged and ready to go. It wasn't a long trip, maybe two hours at the most, but it was going to feel like the longest two hours possible. Waylon seemed to be perfectly happy about facing Lisa's parents after everything. Was he going to pretend like nothing was happening, were they progressive or more conservative in that sense? Sometimes the more conservative parents bred the most socially aware children... no Lisa probably wouldn't invite them over for Christmas. She didn't strike him as the sort to put up with that sort of thing. They were close and if they weren't then Waylon would be twitchy and fidgeting as he drove. Instead, he seemed... relaxed. He wanted to be jealous and annoyed. It seemed to be the tone of his mood today, jealous of The Groom's ability with words and now jealous of Waylon's calm. But if anything it meant that there'd be peace waiting for him. He was going to an environment where he assumed he wouldn't be stressed; which should have soothed him knowing Waylon's tendencies but Waylon had the advantage of knowing these people. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb. He reached for the iPod and switched it on, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander to the daydreams the songs concocted.  
_You've been biting bullets all these years, I know/ There beside yourself, choking on tears/And you aced avoiding possibility/ When you placed your bets on bittersweet. /Now don't you worry/ No need to be sorry/ Time to step lightly..._

Despite closing his eyes and trying to drown out the thoughts, he couldn't help but hear Waylon humming along to the radio. He didn't have an awful voice, he could carry a tune, but it wasn't quite as spectacular as any professional singer. Still, he enjoyed it all the same. Especially given the sentimental nature. He had to wonder if this was something that Lisa would do for him, or he'd do for her. Though his music taste was full of things he hadn't heard before, there wasn't really anything pre-80's. It hadn't taken long for Eddie to memorize most of it, it was the way he was, songs had a habit of sticking better than most things. As much as he wanted to just sleep the trip away, the tone was infectious. He couldn't say if it was intentional, though they harmonized surprisingly well. It soon became a game of alternating who picked the song, though the singing was on and off, it eventually became just Eddie singing along as Waylon hummed along.

 

He found himself drawn to a band recently called 'the Mountain Goats.' It'd been an odd night when Waylon introduced the album to him; 'The Sunset Tree'. Loaded it onto the iPod and told him to listen to the album in however much time he needed. The first time he listened it'd left him reeling. It'd felt like he'd been punched in the gut and robbed of all sense and capability to breathe. The anguish soon turned into rage, as it so often did. He'd spent the rest of the day chopping wood and the rest of the night running through the woods. He hadn't been in a feverish state in so long, not since Mt. Massive. Nothing had pushed his buttons so much since them and their 'questions', more like provocations. And yet after it and he listened to it some more the following day after dozing on the couch... it felt good. Almost cathartic. Waylon kept checking in with him, asked him how the album was. At first, he didn't really reply, just a bundle of raw nerves and unsure where to start talking about it first. Eventually, he finally had the nerve to ask Waylon what the context was. Waylon settled down on the arm of the sofa with his coffee and quietly explained that the album was written just after the lead singer's abusive step-father had died. Something of a Memoriam of him and how shitty he'd made his childhood. Waylon had in a fleeting moment said he used to listen to it to give him some sort of relief whenever things with his parents got too bad, but now he knew Eddie like he did, he said it'd be far more fair to say it was appropriate for him. It'd been a little too close for comfort, he'd expressed.  
“ _Did you read the inside cover_?” Waylon had asked. Eddie had shook his head and then proceeded to do so. The liner notes were like another punch.  
' _...Dedicated to any young men and women anywhere who live with people who abuse them, with the following good news: you are going to make it out of there alive, you will live to tell your story, never lose hope.'_  
He'd spent the rest of the night crying.

  
“I'm going to get myself in fighting trim/ Scope out every angle of unfair advantage/ I'm going to bribe the officials/ I'm going to kill all the judges/ It's going to take you people years to recover from all of the damage~” All it did was feed into his revenge fantasy. How cathartic to speak out about it was. Plan everything, just like The Groom had promised. The one thing they could ever agree on. “Our mother has been absent/ Ever since we founded Rome/ But there's gonna be a party/ When the wolf comes home.”  
Effortlessly he carried on with each tune, even as they pulled into the familiar, poky little cul de sac the Park household was situated. They'd have probably heard them coming a mile off with Eddie singing quite so enthusiastically as he was.

 

The dread hadn't had time to settle itself back in by the time they reached the front door, it was when Lisa answered the door that Eddie was suddenly reminded as to why he was so nervous. Her smile wasn't taut, surprisingly it was actually very genuine. She hugged Waylon tightly, both buzzing at the notion. He started to wonder if he shouldn't have come, but once the _married_ couple broke apart, Lisa reached up and gave his shoulder a soothing squeeze.  
“It's good to see you, Eddie.” She smiled and immediately he felt the weight in his stomach dissolve. She must have seen how nervous he was. “Hope the roads weren't too icy on the way down the mountain.”  
Eddie shook his head and hummed, “It was a good drive.”  
“Come in and get warm, Miles and my parents are already here.”  
“Shit, are we late?” Waylon glanced back over his shoulder, already inside and kicking his shoes off.  
“Are you ever on time?” She raised her brow, smirking. The banter coming free and easily, like they weren't caught up in some weird love triangle bullshit.  
“Rude.”

Eddie pulled his jacket off and hung it up neatly, compared to Waylon just throwing it over what appeared to be the designated 'clutter chair'. It was stacked with jumpers, jackets and hoodies. There were probably over a dozen shoes shoved under it and naturally Waylon's were wedged somewhere else entirely; under the table with the keys and mail on it. He could hear laughter and affectionate greetings coming from the kitchenette and yet he still lingered in the entrance. Eddie knew the children would be amicable to him, he could already sense Miles' nano-machines humming mostly keeping to themselves but eager to exchange knowledge with Eddie's. But the baritone rumbling laughter was a new voice he didn't recognise, it had to have been Lisa's father. Something about going to face the parents of the woman who's husband he essentially snatched was going to be the most awkward thing to date.  
  
Lisa glanced at him, catching the rapidly crumbling resolve he'd built over that two-hour drive. There was something about watching a grown man go into fight or flight mode that made her feel awful; especially knowing Eddie's previous experiences with family. Really Waylon should have sat the man down and talked it through rather than dragging him down here, but Waylon had a habit of getting ahead of himself like that.  
“You'll be fine.” She lightly nudged him – though it more closely resembled a delicate lean into him – her voice quiet and her tone soft. “Papa may be loud, but he's a teddy bear.”  
“It's.. not the noise,” it was part of it, however. “I don't know if I should be here.”  
“You were invited, Waylon didn't just bring you along for shiggles.” For a moment Lisa didn't keep his gaze, instead keeping her eyes low. “You're part of this family now. I know you haven't had the greatest of experiences with family, but we'll see you right.”  
“Lisa-”  
“Look, this air hanging over us isn't all our doing. Waylon's gonna have to take responsibility and believe me I'll make sure he does, but, I don't blame you. He was kind to you when no one else was.” Eddie's brows dropped and his jaw tightened. She was right, but this was a little intense to be bringing up from the get go right? Or was he just so used to the don't talk about it and it's not a problem way of dealing with this sort of thing? “You haven't had a lot of people tell you they care about you in your life, have you?”  
“Can we-- can we rain check this conversation?” He wetted his lips and took a steadying breath. There was a shake in his hands. His intrusive thoughts were telling him to make her be quiet in ways he hadn't thought of since Mt. Massive. He was scared. How did she manage to work him out so fast? All the layers he'd built up for years and this shrewd woman took one look at him and had him figured. She was inhuman. No one was that.. sharp without being cutting.  
“I'm sorry.” Lisa let go of the breath she'd been holding. She'd been studying him in his silence, the way his eyes darted around, looking for an escape. He was getting emotional – she'd hit the nail on the head and hit too close to a sore spot. “That was – too forward.” She flicked her thumb over her index finger, trying to think what to say next. “If it's too much, I can get you settled with the tv?”  
Eddie shook his head. “I want to do this. It's just... sensory overload.” He paused, grimacing before turning to Lisa and hunching to her level. “Do they... do they know about.. um.” He whispered, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck. “Waylon and...”  
“No, not yet. But they're used to some of the company I keep. If you don't want them to know that's okay.” Lisa gave a small self-deprecating huff. “I can't even think how to tell them. I may have polyamorous friends but I'm not sure that sort of thing is for me. I like you Eddie, really. But I'm not sure I can share. Not just with you, but anyone.”  
“I'm so sorry-”  
Lisa held her hand up to stop him and took a steadying breath herself. “He's the father of my sons. I'm going to keep him close for their sake and because he's my best friend. Everyone always thinks these things should be messy and whilst there are some days when I want to smack him for this, there are others where I don't really feel anything about it. We've been struggling for years. He only joined Murkoff to get us out of our money troubles. My parents had offered to help, but I was too proud and wanted us to do it ourselves. Now that the kids are older I can get back to my career. I'm not the island I thought I should be. I will live.” She put her hands on her hips and shrugged. “Besides, the man doesn't maketh the woman, my life isn't over if I'm single for a while.”  
“I still feel responsible.”  
“And in a way you are, but Waylon was the one who had a far more loaded decision to make. Don't be that guy that puts all the blame on the 'other woman'. Waylon's an adult who can take responsibility. You, however, need to learn to accept that he did choose you. You two have something, hold onto it and take care of him. That's what you can do for me, got it?” Eddie nodded slowly, his brain trying to work out what train of thought had lead to this. “Besides, you don't scrub up too badly, so it's not like I don't get it. He's always had a type, someone much stronger than him, just now it's in more than one sense of the word.”  
“Lisa!” His face turned scarlet.  
Lisa however just laughed and opened the kitchenette door.

 

Max and Benji were upon Eddie the minute he entered the room, the call of 'uncle Eddie' was nearly deafening. The two of them grabbing at either of his hands, eyes wide with excitement. Was this what normal families were like? Uncles weren't kind. They were cruel and stank of alcohol. They were terrifying, but the boys didn't seem to be phased by his scarred face; they were more interested in see-sawing on his arms. He looked to Lisa, a little wide eyed and panicked for help.  
“Boys, I think Eddie's a bit tired from the drive.” Lisa said, pouring out some water for a woman Eddie could only assume was her mother. She was the splitting image of her, but her hair was shorter with streaks of silvery grey and a delicate pair of glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. If it wasn't for the grey streaks in her hair he'd have guessed she was in her late 40's.  
“I don't know where they get the energy from.” Miles exhaled heavily, already slumped in his chair. “They've been trying to get me to piggy back them around all day.”  
“They're kids, they've got boundless energy.” Waylon settled down at the table, offering a small apologetic smile to Eddie.  
“To be young again.” Lisa's mother gave a melodramatic sigh.  
“I don't know what you're complaining about, you're still a spring chicken.” Lisa's father leant over and brushed some of her hair from her face. “I'm grey all over.”  
“Eddie, this is my mom and papa, Imani and Tyreek. This is Eddie, the one who helped Waylon out of Murkoff.”  
Combined with the boys pulling at his arms and their gaze on him he started to worry if they'd followed his case when he was arrested. It wasn't particularly big new across the entire country, but in Pennsylvania it was plastered everywhere. He was from the east side, but by the sounds of it Lisa's parents were strictly West coast.  
“Nice to finally meet you, son.” Tyreek nodded sagely, completely aware of the brothers continuing to make him see-saw. “That's been some nasty business there, but it's time the country knew about it.”  
“Max, Benji, I think Eddie wants to sit down now.” Imani bit her lower lip, brow raised with a degree of amusement.  
“I've been sat down for a while-” Eddie tried to reply.  
“Aaaw, but we wanted to play” Max pouted.  
“Dinner first, and you have to _ask_ if Eddie wants to play with you, remember?”  
The boys glanced from their mother, to Waylon back to Eddie. A silent pleading in their eyes.  
“...How about a compromise?” Eddie finally managed to remember what words were. He crouched down to be eye level with the boys, a slight smirk in place. “Shall we see, if I can carry you both to your chairs from here? I mean you've already grown a lot since I last saw you, so it might be difficult.”  
“Nuh-uh.” Benji chimed in.  
“Really? You don't think I can do it?” Eddie's smirk broadened, a brow raised. “Is that a challenge?”  
“Yeah.”  
“So what does the loser have to do?”  
“Mmmm...” Max over-exaggeratedly rubbed his chin.  
“Be a toilet paper mummy for dinner” Benji giggled.  
Eddie looked up to Lisa, “Alright, but only if it's that cheap stuff from the garage.” The brothers cheered and Waylon snorted into his juice.

 

It wasn't really much of a competition, Eddie played it up to make it seem like he was struggling as best as he could, but he'd probably carried around sandbags that were heavier than the boys. They especially seemed to love it when he pretended he was going to drop them; though he quickly stopped that when Lisa looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. Benji had gone a little more hardcore with the toilet paper than Max had, all he could see of the boy was one eye, his mouth and his arms. Still, at least it wasn't as messy as it could have been.  
The boys ate up and were taken to bed; only having been up that late just to see Waylon and Eddie when they arrived. As much as Waylon didn't want to part with them so soon, the conversations that would inevitably follow weren't particularly suitable for their ears. Lisa's mother obliged taking them upstairs to get cleaned up. Part of Waylon wondered if what had happened really clicked with her. The woman was as shrewd as her daughter, but there was an air of passiveness about her towards the whole situation. It was also very possible that she was exhausted by the thought of it.

“How long have you been here, Miles?” Waylon glanced at the man, taking a sip of his drink.  
“A bit. I needed a base of my own, too much stuff to do.” Awkwardly he rubbed the nape of his neck. His poker face was terrible as his eyes drifted towards Lisa. He must have caught himself because he turned himself to face Waylon again. The engineer's eyes narrowed at him momentarily. “I've been cleaning up some of the other facilities. Gotta take a break every once in a while you know? It's not been pretty. But, more footage. It's just more ammo for Lisa to use in the case against them.”  
“Surely they wouldn't let you submit evidence that late into it?”  
“To be honest, after the first video I uploaded after it got started they were dismissive. It was probably into the third or fourth one that they realised just how many facilities there were.” Miles shrugged, “It was pure bureaucracy but Lisa's got her ways.”  
“Yeah, pointing out that the victims of those facilities deserved as much justice as Mt. Massive's. And that Murkoff had lied.” Lisa gestured with her fork. “They tried to use flimsy wording to claim they didn't have any more that were 'functioning'.”  
“And that held up in court?” Her father asked, appalled.  
“The justice system's been broken for a while.” Lisa sighed, “But, their reasoning was that they'd abandoned those projects, claiming it was simple lab tests and surveys for their ME project. The footage Miles got showed otherwise.”  
“I don't want to be a massive downer, but who else can see the American military wringing their hands at the idea of this?” Miles slumped back on his chair. Perhaps at one point he'd have been the kind to put his feet up on the table, but the wary look to Lisa left the implication that he'd learned his lesson the last time he'd tried to.  
“They wouldn't be so stupid.” Eddie spoke up, “The footage shows that it's highly unpredictable and nigh uncontrollable. It wouldn't be worth the investment. Besides, the Media is still all over this like blue-assed flies, you can tell when something's getting sketchy when it just disappears from news platforms. If something's being taken seriously it's buzzing everywhere. Admittedly this is probably only so prominent because there's a great deal of people speaking out against it.”  
“Yeah, but you can bet if it wasn't a whole lot of white people caught up in this then no one would give a shit.” Miles' eyes narrowed, “If it was Latinx, Black, Asian or Native people they'd probably think shit this is a great idea. Shit they'd probably give Walker a medal for what he was doing.”  
“Probably.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Forgetting that of course, they are the same system that threw him aside when he couldn't cope with his PTSD from his tours in Afganistan.”  
“No wonder you all look so damn miserable.” Tyreek piped up, “Listen to you all. This is a time for celebrating, y'all're winning this. We're comin' together as a family and we're going to try t'forget about all this business for a while.”  
“You're right, papa.” Lisa reached over and grabbed his hand. “Waylon, haven't you got some games that we can play?”  
“Uhm. I think so. Shit, I hope I didn't leave them at the cabin.”Waylon sat up and zipped into the front room to grab his laptop bag.

After a little while of scrolling he was reading through a list of games they could try. Some were silly, some completely out of the question. There was always truth or dare but everyone had more than enough skeletons in their closet they weren't about to parade to the others.  
“Well there's one here, they've made their own cards for it but it's basically, guess the film by the tag line for it. It's divided up into categories of genre, like fantasy, sci-fi, drama, rom coms, that sort of thing.” Waylon glanced around his laptop screen, looking to everyone else. “Does that sound fun?”  
“Alright, but you're gonna be the question-master, it's never any fun competing against you on media quizzes.” Lisa groaned.  
By this point Lisa had broken out the heavier stuff, beer, wine and mixers; although Eddie and Miles weren't touching the stuff. Eddie for the sake of his meds and Miles because lord knew what would happen to the Walrider if he did get drunk.  
“Can I team up with someone who hasn't been living in a hole for the past decade?” Eddie raised his hand, trying to make light of his situation. Thankfully it didn't fall flat and Lisa beckoned him down to her end of the table.  
“Think of this game as me vs you all.” Waylon smirked. “You get as many attempts as you like, but only two clues. We'll have two piles, the ones you get and the ones you don't.”  
“Waylon, you're normally such a sweet boy, why is it whenever we play games over the holidays you get sinister?” Imani cocked her head with a bemused little smile, glass of wine in hand almost as tilted as her head.  
“That's when my competitive streak comes out 'Mani.” He returned the smile with a little two-fingered salute. “Blame my D&D nights back in Uni.”  
“Yeah, I seem to recall no one let you be the dungeon master because you were such a shit bag.” Lisa lilted as innocently as possible. “Do you have any comment on this?”  
“Yes. There were too many chaotic neutrals in the party doing stupid shit and actions have consequences, I just happened to be the one to teach them that.” He poked his tongue out at her, completely unflapped. “Now, what genre do we want the first category to be? There's holidays-”  
“Right but how many of us actually watch those shitty films?” Miles groaned loudly and shook his head “It's over-commercialised crap. The only decent one is Home Alone, but even then the kid's barely tolerable.”  
“Alright, alright, we won't do holidays, Captain Buzzkill.” Waylon huffed an exhale as he scrolled through the list. “What's something we'd all mostly know? Drama? Crime/Thrillers?”  
“Thrillers please~” Imani rubbed her hands together excitedly, getting braced and ready for the round.

There was a whole lot of shouting and laughter, normally Eddie would have been overwhelmed by the volume levels, but the fact he actually managed to guess one or two had put a wind in his sails. He didn't remember seeing the film at all, but for some reason the film was very vivid in his mind's eye. Maybe he'd just forgotten it somewhere along the line. It was only when he glanced to Miles and the journalist subtly directed his eyes to Waylon did Eddie catch a glimpse of nano-machines hovering behind Waylon. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again. For a split second he worried he was hallucinating but the fact Miles directed him to it was a little assurance. Then came the realisation that The Groom was actively helping him to cheat.  
'Stop it.'  
' _What's the point if you can't take part?_ '  
'It's not about getting it right, it's about joining in. Besides, we said we would keep a lid on this.'  
The echos of The Groom's 'psht' stung a little more than he wanted, but he noticed the barely visible swarm dispersing. Everything carried on relatively painlessly for the rest of the night, even when it dissolved into a bastardisation of 'beer pong'. Miles wouldn't drink, Eddie couldn't mix meds, Waylon hated wine, Imani couldn't touch gluten. So in the end it was who could get the ping pong ball in the cup of water at the end of the 7 foot table.  
Eddie had noticed Lisa dozing on her chair first, gradually the group began lagging like dead flies and weirdly enough the elder two were still going until the early hours of the morning; cheering loudly as they landed ping pong ball after ping pong ball into the cups of water.

 

The following morning was pleasant. Lisa was nursing a vodka hangover with tomato juice and a bacon sandwich, her parents were still dead to the world though the empty bottles of wine were enough of a testament to just how much of a 'good time' they'd had the night before. The boys were oblivious to this as they played video games with Waylon in the other room. The arrangement felt odd, Eddie helping Lisa make breakfast whilst Miles was sat on the window seat typing up a storm. Lisa quietly mentioned that he'd opened up a Q&A on Reddit and some other sites and was getting more of the word out on what was going on in the facilities. Lazily Eddie blinked, trying to convey that he had indeed heard what she said, even if it didn't make much sense to him.  
“So, your parents are here.. what about Waylon's?” Eddie stretched, grimacing as his shoulder jolted and popped. “I know he isn't on the best of terms with them.”  
“We invite them every year, it's not always the most pleasant of days when they come down.” Lisa shrugged, “I think this year... everything that's happened. It proves that they were wrong. Last year was messy. It was part of what made Waylon pursue this job with Murkoff. His dad..” She trailed off and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He's a real piece of work, put it that way. Words were said and Waylon took them to heart, as much as he didn't want to admit it. We were both trying to shoulder too much and weren't talking about it.”  
“Are they going to show up?”  
“I don't know. But for Waylon's sake we're not going to mention what's going on with you two if they do show up.”  
“Are they-”  
“Very phobic. Yes.”  
“If they get out of line this year, I'll put 'em right, don't you worry, Spud.” Tyreek was shielding his eyes from the light pouring in from the windows.  
“Is mom awake yet?”  
“She's feelin a bit delicate.” He nodded and settled himself at the table. “Shouldn't have let them stay after that, things wouldn't have been so bad... Now, what aren't we telling them?”  
Lisa and Eddie glanced between themselves and already Eddie could feel the skin on the back of his neck crawling. Part of him wanted to come clean, get rid of the potential for the air of awkwardness. But that would also get particularly messy.  
“That Eddie helped Waylon escape. We were going to tell them that they met outside of the Asylum.” Miles uttered simply, not looking up from his screen. “There's a lot of stuff we're not gonna tell them. Mostly cause I think by the sounds of it Way's dad would flip his shit.”  
“But the man's got access to the news, you're gonna have to make sure your stories match what they're reporting.” Tyreek frowned. “That's a hell of a thing to keep up.”  
“I'm a good liar.” Eddie replied flatly. “Give me any lie and I can make myself believe it's the truth.”  
“Son, that ain't healthy. You shouldn't have to do that now you're not stuck in Murkoff.”  
He gave a tight-lipped smile and shrugged his shoulders, “Either way, I'm capable of keeping to myself.”  
“You're talking like they'll even show up.” Lisa interrupted, “which they won't. If they show up they'll be acknowledging they were wrong and Daddy Park can't possibly ever do that. He's got too much white man macho pride, you know?”  
“Yeah.” Eddie grimaced.  
“Now take these- Miles! Your public can wait- eat up and let me take these pain killers like popping candy.”  
Eddie nodded, a little taken back and set the bacon sandwiches down. Miles shut the laptop and settled himself in possibly one of the most uncomfortable looking positions Eddie could think of. A leg tucked under him with the other dangling off the chair at a somewhat slumped angle. “God help them if they show up...” Lisa muttered under her breath, taking a hefty chug of her juice. “Waylon, boys! Food's ready.”  
“I could taste the salt in the back of my mouth, were you bad mouthing my family?” The boys rushed past Waylon, almost tripping him up as they joined the group.  
“Just your dad. We don't like Granddad Park, do we boys?”  
“No.” Benji shook his head.  
“He's mean.” Max grimaced and stuck his tongue out.  
“See, the boys have the right idea.” Lisa smirked.  
Waylon sighed and settled down next to Eddie, briefly allowing himself to nudge his forehead into the man's shoulder. Eddie tensed, convinced that Tyreek had noticed although the man seemed oblivious to the moment of affection. Or he just didn't care. Lisa did say they had 'interesting' friends after all...

 

For most of the days that they stayed, Eddie couldn't help but feel like Miles was keeping his distance. He wondered if that was because The Groom had taken on such a massive change, though part of him was suspecting it had something to do with the elephant in the room that no one was talking about.  
The sun had set and Eddie stepped outside to get some fresh air in the backyard. Miles was sat on the swing seat looking up at the stars with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He wanted to approach, but he had to wonder if the payoff for clearing the air would be worth it compared to the inevitable shade he would throw his way.  
“...Do you mind if I join you?” Eddie cleared his throat. The air was sharp and harsh to inhale. If there were clouds that night he'd wonder if it'd snow like it did in the mountains.  
“Not my seat anyway.” Miles shrugged. He shifted over, avoiding his gaze.  
“How much do Lisa's parents actually know about us?” It wasn't exactly what he wanted to talk about, but it gave him somewhere to start. “I mean about what we're capable of, things that happened in Murkoff?”  
The younger man finally looked at him. There was a long paused as he inhaled deeply before letting out thick billowing clouds of smoke. It stung to inhale, an odd cold hot. _Menthols_. Probably borrowed one from Imani, she had a strong scent of smoke and mint about her. The clouds were lost to the darkness behind them, none of the lights were turned on, Miles seemed to just be sat in the dark. The only light was coming from the house, just about visible through gaps the curtains didn't cover.  
“Well I'll be straight up with you Eddie, they're not dense.” He shifted, leaning on the arm of the seat behind him. He looked like a big cat lounging. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and held up his hands. The stubs of his fingers were prominent and even in the dull light he could see Miles' red irises. “If all this isn't a giveaway that they were doing some intensive human experimentation and torture I don't know what will. Scared the living shit out of 'Mani on the first night. Got up to take a piss, bumped into her and the first she saw of me was my eyes.” He huffed and took the cigarette from his mouth.  
“Do they know about the Walrider?”  
“Yes and no.” He narrowed his eyes, glancing to the house. “They haven't watched the footage, _that I know of_. I know they know the end-game Murkoff had in mind thanks to Lisa. But I think... they're aware that shit's gone down. They know I have it, but they don't know exactly what it is. Make sense?”  
“Mhmm.” Eddie fidgeted slightly.

The unbearable buzzing he used to hear around Miles wasn't there. Perhaps there wasn't as much data for their nano-machines to exchange anymore? His gut told him that what he'd seen that night in the cabin had spooked him. It'd scared the hell out of him, why wouldn't it have scared Miles? Sometimes it was difficult to know what was his train of thought and what was The Groom being 'helpful', just like the night before in their card game. Everything seemed real, it made sense. Not to mention when Tyreek had complimented his throws in Water Pong (as they'd decided to call it), when he didn't even recall playing. There was no way that they didn't know just how messed up he was.  
Even with the cold air biting at him, Eddie reminded himself that he'd been far colder. Perhaps it was the pleasant scenery that made him not care much. He found it so easy to distract himself as long as he had a point of focus. Perhaps that was why they tried to get him to fuse with the Walrider. He could have been the perfect soldier if he wasn't so damaged.  
“You're stressing yourself out.” Miles huffed, taking a final drag before shoving the butt into a flower pot of sand. “They're mundies, but they're chill.”  
“Mundies?”  
“Yeah, mundane, normal folks? Got it from a comic I used to read.”  
“Oh.. I just don't want to screw things up any more than I seem to have.”  
“You mean Lisa? Psht. She told me if I got on your back she'd hand my ass to me.”  
“You have every reason to.”  
“Nah, she has every reason to ride your ass for this, but she doesn't. Kinder than I am. If I was Waylon's wife I'd take him for everything he was worth.” He paused and looked at Eddie, noticing the way his face twisted into a grimace. “I'm pissed for her sake. Shit that sounds like... Look it's not a great situation. Relationship splits are fuckin messy, I don't know what she's going to do. But she got thrown aside for someone else who doesn't know him as well as she does.”  
“The length of time that I've known him for doesn't make this any less valid.” Eddie's brows dipped. Something warm was bubbling in his chest. A weighty feeling resting on his shoulders. How dare he? Miles was an outsider with no business.  
“Nah, but you just show up out of nowhere and suddenly he's smitten for you? Every time I see you two you've been fighting, looks like Stockholm to me.”  
“How _dare_ you.” He wanted to punch him. He wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be able to say anything awful about Waylon ever again. “You don't _know us_. You show up for an hour at a time and act like you're better than us. You act as though you're better than _everyone_. Does it make you happy being like that? To look down your nose at everyone. You glorify being mean. I don't know about you but I'm tired of cruel people, we've been through enough of it. Why are you adding so much oil to the fire, it's not as though it's going to make Lisa take a second glance at you.” Eddie was sat rigid, back poker straight but his line of sight didn't waver. “Or are you just that desperate to fuck her you think that shoving Waylon out of the picture means you get there quicker?”  
“Keep talking big man, really, I'm so interested to know what a woman-killer has to say about relationships. Nah, what am I missing? Should I hit her around, seems to work for you, be mean to keep them keen-”  
“You will stop talking or I will make sure _he_ will make sure you do.”

Behind them the nano-machines had formed into their shadow-like appearance. The creature The Groom had twisted into stood tall and with broad arms folded. Its tail flicked and swished behind it, the red in the skull helmet glowing angrily. Miles' eyes narrowed.  
“They may be happy to take your word, but I've seen the things you don't tell them.” The Walrider fabricated, although it didn't seem nearly as intent for a fight as The Groom or Miles did. “Data exchange remember? Thanks to the nano-machines I know your secrets and know you're a sick puppy.”  
“So, you'd have me put behind bars if you could?”  
“You need something that you can't get from hiding behind Waylon. Professional help.”  
“So because you've had access to my memories, which by the way I _didn't_ give you permission to, you think you know everything about me? You don't have any interest in knowing me, you just want someone to demonise. I know Trager and the others in there screwed you over, but I'm not going to feed into your own problems.” Eddie got to his feet, pushing away from the swing seat a little too hard. “I know I need a professional, but you'll forgive me if I don't trust them or believe I'll be safe from Murkoff until this is buried. But what's your excuse for being a jackass?”

Miles was about to throw himself at the man when the Walrider seemed to stop him. It grabbed his arm and glanced up over the house. Over the sound of Eddie's angered breathing and the buzzing of The Groom behind him he could just about hear the sounds of a car getting closer. Initially, he didn't think anything on it until Eddie stopped and without any prompting did the same. It could have been anything, one of the neighbours, someone driving into the cul de sac just over from them.  
“You think that's Murkoff?” Miles slowly approached, making sure to not get too close to Eddie. After all, he didn't want to get punched out by him.  
“No... it's not a militia vehicle.” The shadow of The Groom bolted past, leaping up to land silently on the roof of the house. In the darkness, it was barely visible. “It's a black car, but the windows aren't tinted..”  
“Oh shit. What do they look like?”  
“Uhm..” Eddie paused and looked over his shoulder at Miles. “gotta be in their early sixties? The man's got a jumper tied over his shoulders... The woman's asian-”  
“Oh shit that's Waylon's parents.”  
“I thought they weren't supposed to be coming?” Eddie's eyes widened. The apparition of The groom rapidly disappeared, unable to keep up his concentration on it. His heart began hammering in his chest again, but this time for the urge to run rather than punch Miles' face in. “What do I do?”  
“Face the music, Big guy.” Gently he put a hand on the small of Eddie's back and pushed him forward in through the back door. “From what Lisa's said, Waylon's gonna need all the support he can get.”  


The two stumbled in from the garage, clumsily to watch Lisa open the front door with the biggest, fakest smile plastered on her face. It was all very proper, take the coats, ask how they were only for her to get mostly blanked.  
“Where's Waylon?” The man asked. He had thick dark eyebrows and silver hair that he'd probably tried to dye black years ago in a last ditch attempt to appear younger than he was. The wrinkles he had were distinct frown-lines.  
“Oh, he's just putting the boys to bed,” Lisa forced the smile, clasping her hands together. “Would you like a drink, it's probably been a long drive.”  
“No, thank you. We'll wait.” She had to have been Waylon's mother. Her features were soft and had surprisingly plump cheeks but a very sharp nose. She might have looked better if it wasn't for the perpetual frown she seemed to sport.  
“Mai, Hank, we were startin' to wonder if we were gonna see you this year.” Tyreek made to get up from the armchair he'd claimed for the night but the look that Mai gave him had him decide otherwise.  
“We won't be staying long.” Mai uttered, “Hank has business tomorrow afternoon.”  
“Y'know I gotta ask if you've been in contact with him since he got out of Murkoff.”  
“The boy's always been impossible to get hold of.” Hank replied, calmly but dismissively. “He's supposed to be in hiding, I'm surprised he's here at all.”  
Lisa sucked on her teeth, making an audible noise of annoyance. It was kind of typical for them to ignore her presence, perhaps it was the fact that they couldn't stand Waylon dating a successful black woman. Or maybe it was the realisation that they were having Max that made them get married that pushed their buttons? They were both successful in their chosen fields, but weren't exactly the most progressive people.  
Waylon half trotted down the stairs and looked up; rapidly wishing he hadn't.

“Mom, dad-” He reached the foot of the stairs and his mother wrapped her arms around him. He wasn't the tallest of people in the world, but she was barely five feet herself. “Ah- good to see you too.”  
“You made us so worried. What were you thinking doing a thing like that?” Waylon made small awkward noises clearly trying to form words. “You're a foolish boy.”  
“Ah-”  
“Damn hell of a mess you've made for them,” Hank stood back, arms folded across his chest. He was a good few inches taller than his son, which made the way he looked down at him that much more uncomfortable to watch. Eddie shifted, about to step forward but Miles put an arm in the way of him. The journalist's eyes narrowed, regarding them suspiciously. “And for yourself. You're living like a fugitive.”  
“It was worth it.” Waylon replied quietly but firmly. “Believe me, if you were there... You've got to have seen the clips the news has shown.”  
“You've lost so much weight, what have you been eating?” Mai huffed, patting Waylon's waist to emphasise how much he'd shrunk since they last saw him.  
“I'm not doubting you think that, but it was too much trouble.” Hank carried on.  
“I think you're crowding the poor _man_.” Miles hissed as Eddie barged past him.

Too many times when he was younger he'd conned himself into believing that he should have said or done something when things were getting too intense only to be held back by his fear. It wasn't anywhere near to it, but he recognised that look of terror trying to think of something to say. The resentment was subtle, though he was unsure if it was towards Waylon's parents or at himself, Eddie guessed the other was more at himself. It was easy to talk over him sometimes and now he knew why.  
Waylon's parents looked to the new voice. Hank's eyes narrowed at him, studying him for all he was worth whist Mai just about maintained composure but it was hard to ignore the way she was fixated on Eddie's facial scars.  
“If it wasn't for Waylon I wouldn't have made it out. I wouldn't have had the chance to speak up about the gross mistreatment.” He enunciated his words carefully, speaking slowly and maintaining eye contact with Hank. “The fact that this has all dissolved into a witch hunt for us for Waylon wanting to show the world what was going on is disgusting.”  
“Whistleblowers aren't taken to kindly in the business world-”  
“I wonder why that is?” Eddie cocked his head, his eyebrow raising for a split second, just long enough to send the message that this attitude wouldn't fly. “I suppose it's because they feel that they shouldn't have to answer to anyone or be held accountable. Silent complacency is how we got here. Waylon rightly decided enough was enough.”  
“He suffered too much for his cause.” Mai replied firmly. “What they did was disgusting, but he was putting his neck out for people who didn't deserve it. They were experimenting on criminals, people who gave up their rights when they committed their crimes.”  
“I think this is getting a little-” Waylon was silenced by his mother harshly shushing him.  
“You have absolutely no idea, do you?” Waylon looked to Eddie who was now clenching his fists at his sides. That angular predatory look he hadn't seen in a while was creeping back into his features. The way his jaw was tensed and his brows drawn. “How do you know who they were experimenting on? Were you there? Did you see it first hand or are you just listening to the drivel Fox New peddles? You're talking out of the back of your head and to do that to Waylon and in the presence of Miles and myself is even _more_ disgusting.”  
“I would like to speak _alone_ with my son.” Eddie's brows dipped, a snarl threatening to escape his well-practiced mask of emotional detachment.  
“Waylon, what would you like to do?”  
The programmer grimaced.

 

It was one of those moments which you never thought would ever happen. But he'd had more than enough experience with moments that you thought would only ever stay in the realm of weird things your brain would conjure up. Murkoff and time spent with Eddie had been a testament. As tempting as it would be to let Eddie tear his father a new one in an act of vicarious victory, there was more at stake than Eddie really knew or perhaps was willing to appreciate. He'd have to talk to him about it later, but right now it felt like the two of them were about to engage in a tug of war with him as the rope. Lisa was keeping a watchful eye from the sofa, huddled closely to her mother. Tyreek was doing the same, albeit a little less subtly. His entire body language was almost daring Waylon's parents to say something out of line. Although, after everything Eddie said it was clear he was rooting for team 'Screw Waylon's Parents'.  
“Alright,” Waylon leant in to whisper in his mother's ear, “But just you. I'm not talking to dad. He won't.. he won't get it.”  
Mai sighed and turned to her husband, waving him off. “Go wait in the car, we won't be long.” Hank grunted in response and watched the two of them disappear into the kitchenette.  
“He always was a mama's boy.” Hank shook his head.  
“Perhaps that says more about your parenting skill than Waylon?” Eddie didn't really think to engage his brain to mouth filter, though the silence that lingered after was telling.  
“Who in the hell are you to tell me how to raise my son-”  
“I've seen toxic households first hand, I've seen and experienced abusive family members, so perhaps you ought to ask yourself what's the real reason Waylon doesn't like spending time with you?”  
“I would never-”  
“Abuse isn't just inappropriately touching your kids or beating them. Whether you have meant to or not, you have through your words and actions taught him that he _can't_ rely on you. Now. I think you've overstayed your welcome, especially as your manners are absolutely abhorrent.”  
Hank's face creased with his frown, muttering under his breath at the whole thing as he left to stand by their car. He tapped away on his phone, barely looking back at the house. The most he did was tap his foot impatiently as he struggled to keep himself occupied.

“Thank you, Eddie.” Lisa got up from the sofa and approached the man. His hands were trembling, despite how immovable he seemed whilst telling Waylon's father where to go. Gently she reached out and clasped his hand, patting it soothingly. “Come on, come and sit down. You too, Miles.”  
Eddie nodded, trying to steady his breath. It may have been a brief exchange but it was enough to make his heart race. Conflict still made him feel like a powerless child sometimes, even if he was nearly a head taller than Hank. He could only hope that he'd done some good rather than making things worse for Waylon. _Silence is still violence_. He reminded himself as Lisa guided him to sit between her and her mother. He remained there, leaning over himself, elbows resting on his knees and hands against his forehead. Deep breathing exercises didn't always work, but Lisa's mother was gently rubbing his back. It felt good.

 

“What is the matter with you?” Mai may have been sat opposite Waylon but the man still felt it was far too close.

It'd been nearly a year since they last saw each other face to face, too much had happened that hadn't been forgiven; especially things that had been said about Lisa. It wasn't fair. He'd never been able to speak his mind effectively and it felt at times that his parents preyed on this. His father was the worst, but the no-nonsense attitude of his mother left little room for a sense of ability to nurture. This was her trying.  
“I've been incarcerated, had to escape and be on the run, then you two bust in unannounced like the Spanish Inquisition...” Waylon shook his head, running his hand through his hair. Already aware that he now had almost two inches of root regrowth. He needed to dye it again at some point but the opportunity always escaped him. “I'm not doing well.”  
“I have two eyes, I can see that.” His mother folded her arms. “What happened? What possessed you to do such a thing? Especially when you have your children waiting for you.”  
“They wouldn't let me keep in contact with them. When I started working there I'd text Lisa to say when I'd be back; just casual stuff. Then one day they said it wasn't allowed, we couldn't send external messages during work hours which seemed fair enough at first-- shit then they started to talk about making my position an in-house residency. I'd seen too much and they didn't want me to start talking about it. It started off as selfish, the want to throw them under the bus because it was affecting me and my home-life... But you didn't see what they were doing, mẹ. If you'd seen it then you'd have been just as furious, I _know_ you would have been.”  
His mother sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment. She was gathering herself. As much as Hank had hardened her throughout the years when she was alone with Waylon perhaps what was the way she used to be shined through brighter. There were times that Waylon told himself that his father had probably sold his soul for the promotion he'd been fighting for for years since then he'd never been able to get over the way he changed. It'd shaken them as a family. His mother hadn't been so overbearing, not always. Perhaps it was manipulative of him to demand to talk to her alone, put her in a position where she'd have to choose between what Waylon needed and what his father demanded of her. He'd always felt bad about it, probably why he never pushed for much.  
“Your father drove us here because he has a meeting tomorrow and he was concerned that they would use your exploits against his credibility.” Mai finally spoke. “Whistleblowers aren't looked at favourably. He lives in his own world now, I've told you this many times. The actions of what's right for the majority don't count for men like him.”  
“I don't care. He can keep living in his own world, but I'm not going to let him make me feel guilty for this.”  
“It's because he feels guilty. We pushed you to aim higher, you went there and it ate you up.” She hissed through her teeth and got to her feet. For a moment Waylon thought she was about to leave, but instead she returned to the table with a bottle of dark rum and two glasses. She poured them both out a glass but seemed insistent to keep the bottle to herself; especially after the way she downed her first double. “We have always failed you. I knew it the moment when I took you to that doctor because Hank was insisting that 'children don't act like that'. He's never understood anything outside of his own tunnelled vision.”  
“Why are you still with him then?”  
“Because he's a good man, even if he's an idiot.” She took another hefty swig. “And he's always provided for us, _always_. I can forgive the way he treats me because he does what he can. We were in a situation similar to you when you were Max's age. Hank had been getting too friendly with people who only wanted him for his connections. He'd never done wrong before that moment. Desperation pushes people to do foolish things and you like your father do foolish things. But you do it because you both believe yourself to be the better man in the situation.”  
“Mom, please stop trying to justify what he's done.” Waylon pushed the glass away. He hadn't touched it, part of him feeling as though if he did he'd find himself agreeing with her. “When we came home that day and you told him I'd been diagnosed with anxiety he laughed in your face. He doesn't believe that mental illnesses _exist_. He doesn't even want to acknowledge food allergies for the love of- shit this is just so like you two isn't it? I go through hell and you two try and make it all about you. This may have been your doing, but I'm the one who had to suffer through it, you two couldn't have cared. So what? Your conscience is starting to work again after all these years? Cry me a river. If dad's credibility is ruined because of me I don't care because what goes around comes around. It's about time someone called him out on his bullshit.”  
“If this falls through then we can't provide for you-”  
“You have _never_ provided for me for the sake of providing. You've always done it for a pat on the back and ticking off the 'good parent box'. I never asked you for anything because you'd always use it against me. You'd use it to silence me, whenever he got too much you'd tell me 'he's done so much for you'. You don't get brownie points for that. That's being a god damn parent. I never asked to be born but you two decided to guilt me about my existence nearly every god damned week. I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore. I don't care. If that hurts you or makes you feel uncomfortable that's not my problem.” Waylon stood up. Each time his mother tried to speak up he'd carry on talking, raising his voice that little more. “I have been made to feel uncomfortable for the sake of your feelings for too long and I'm telling you enough is enough. I'm not going to be made to feel guilty for this. I'm not going to be made to feel guilty about being married to Lisa, I'm not going to be made to feel guilty about how god damn fragile I feel after all the shit Murkoff put me through. And I'm not going to be made to feel guilty about telling you both to get out of my god damn house. You messed this up. Both of you did. Now you can feel how awful it is to be called a failure by those you call 'family'.”  
“Waylon-”  
“No. You've said enough and I've had enough. Go home.” He stalked to the kitchen door and opened it up, beckoning for her to leave.  
Mai finished her glass and headed to the door. He looked like her son, but there was a confidence that she hadn't ever seen in him before. It was amazing the effect a year could have on a person. But he was right. Waylon walked her to the door and gave her her coat. Even if the others weren't looking in their direction he could still feel his ears burning like they were listening to everything. How could they not have heard everything, he didn't exactly have volume control when he did raise his voice.  
As his mother left she said something to him, something that the others wouldn't be able to understand in her first language. Perhaps it had been a way of protecting herself, just one last little fuck you to him. As he closed the door his mouth pressed into a firm line and tried to keep his breathing steady. He'd told himself for years that he didn't care, that it was safer that way, but somehow time and time again they still managed to play him like a finely tuned instrument.  
“Way..? Honey are you alright?” Lisa looked over, the man's cheeks red and taking deep shaky breaths.  
“I think I'm going to go to bed.”  
“What did she say?”

 

“ _You're not what we wanted, this isn't what we wanted for you, but that's not up to us. You are still my son and I will still love you, even if we can't understand your decisions I am proud that you're learning to stand your ground and find the strength to make your own choices._ ”

  


“Your parents are a real trip you know that?” Miles exhaled heavily, the smoke from his lungs adding to his somewhat hellish appearance. It was too early for this sort of thing and Waylon couldn't help but feel like this was just another one of the journalist's mind games.  
Waylon was eating a meager breakfast, food to fill a gap rather than anything really nutritious or something he could completely enjoy. Though he was fairly sure that Lisa hadn't given Miles permission to smoke in the house, even if he was sat by the open window.  
“You weren't raised by them.” Waylon scoffed, taking a sip of his coffee, trying to avoid looking at Miles, let alone inhaling the fumes of his cigarette.  
“I'm starting to get why you're such a flighty fuck. Probably explains why Lisa sticks up for you so much.” Miles paused and inhaled deeply, all the while Waylon wondering what in the hell this was all about and why he decided now was a good time to trample all over his feelings. “She knows more about you than I do. Gets you better. I haven't been fair on you and I'm sorry for that. Shit, I haven't been fair to you or Eddie, I've got to catch him before you guys leave and fix things. It's easy to get caught up in your own bubble and not pay attention to what's going on with everyone else. I can give ideas of what to do, but I don't have any idea about all the complicated stuff that's got you all wound up. Parents can fuck you up, the system can fuck you up – I should know this as well as anyone.”  
“Miles where are you going with this? You're rambling.”  
“I'm saying that I've been an asshole and I'm trying to apologise. I've seen a lot of shit too. When you've seen the sort of things we did in Murkoff and that constant fear of whether that moment would be your last, you're so focused on keeping yourself alive you forget that other people are too.”  
“...Thanks..”  
“Before your parents got here I was being a grade A fuck-hole to him. After seeing him shoot down your dad and how much effort he's making with everyone, I haven't been cutting him enough slack...” Miles paused and stubbed out the cigarette, flicking the butt out the window. “When me and Eddie do an information exchange with our nano-machines.. even things that didn't happen can get exchanged. Thoughts. Dreams. That sort of thing. I didn't realise that they weren't what he really wanted. But when he was talking down your dad I could see it all clearly... I stand by that once this is over he needs real help. There's a lot of nasty thoughts buzzing around in there. Not that I can talk. He'd kill for you, I never doubted that after he tried to take on Walker. I just didn't realise how serious he was at the time. When someone's that in love with you it's dazzling. Kind of easy to make you forget about everything else... so I'm starting to get things.” He paused and roughly rubbed his hand through his hair. “Shit, I'm no good at this sort of thing.”  
“No, well yeah you are, but it's okay. Have you talked to Lisa about the other facilities?”  
“Sort of. But I don't tell her everything. I don't want to lay more at her door, you know? She's thinking about opening up her firm again, she's got the kids and the overground Murkoff stuff to deal with. Once it's all quietened down, maybe I will.”  
“You've been there for her more than I have. Thanks.” Waylon offered a smile. “She's always been a bit on the solitary side even if she is all about social justice. I'm glad she's got a friend in you.”  
Miles gave a short huff of amusement before lighting up another smoke.  
“You say that and yet you've still got my damn credit card.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> _"It gets okay to praise the day_  
>  Believe in sheltering skies and stable earth beneath  
> But hear his breath come through his teeth
> 
>  
> 
> _Walk by faith_  
>  Tell no one what you've seen
> 
>  
> 
> _It's so good to learn that from right here the view goes on forever_  
>  And you'll never want for comfort and you'll never be alone  
> See the sunset turning red, let all be quiet in your head  
> And look about, all the stars are coming out
> 
>  
> 
> _They shine like steel swords_  
>  Wish me well where I go  
> But when you see me, you'll know"  
> Never Quite Free - The Mountain Goats
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you want to find me on tumblr my account is [here](www.saltiestofqueers.tumblr.com) and my playlist for this fic, ever changing because I'm finicky is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3lBF2h-Pl0&list=PLmnfCbrIhoGLMfx7DHrYFZNhfZxVItLSm).  
> The filler songs for this chapter are: Fragile by Poets of the Fall and Up The Wolves by The Mountain Goats.
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	26. Diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are finally talked about, perhaps things aren't quite as idyllic as Waylon had wanted to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Slander and distension  
> They're parlor games to me  
> Papers overrun with lies too mad to mention  
> You say they never hurt you  
> No consequence, I'm happy  
> We're much too far above it all  
> But oh no, that's not true  
> These wicked pastimes take their toll  
> These tyrant vices break your soul  
> Deliver me from all I am  
> And all I never want to be 
> 
> I love you (Oh willow, willow, willow)  
> Doubt me not  
> Rewrite this plot for all to see"

It had taken a day or two for the air to clear. The rest of the family had left Eddie and Waylon to do their own thing for a while, though still reached out to be inclusive every once in a while. Eddie had conceded one night and joined in the game that the others were playing; Waylon decided to stay glued to his computer.  
It'd taken Lisa not giving him a choice about going with her to get some groceries to actually get Waylon out of the house. Despite her smiles and charm in front of the others, Waylon noticed that when it was just the two of them there was a weighted tension between them. It was unsurprising, he'd just been dreading when this conversation would be coming up. But nothing was said. Other than the radio playing quietly the two barely exchanged a word. Waylon's mind ran with it. Though part of his mind was screaming at him that she was doing it on purpose, that she was doing it to punish him. Lisa was capable of spite, but there was a weariness in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before.  
  
“Kind of nice to not have to pretend for a while, isn't it?” He murmured in an attempt to break the silence.  
“Mm.” Lisa gave a lazy blink as they pulled up to the traffic lights. “I thought... I thought that this would be good for us. For all of us. I'm so damn tired.”  
“I'm sorry.” Waylon leant over and pressed his forehead into Lisa's upper arm.  
“I know.” Hesitantly she reached over and ran her hand through his hair. She felt her breath catch in her throat, stifling the notion that was threatening to bubble over. She'd always hated crying. The best way to get revenge was to never let them see that they'd hurt you, right? She'd tested her strength too much in one go and now it was failing her.  
“Lisa, the turning for Walmart was over there..”  
“We're not going to Walmart,” her voice was taut. “We need to talk. I thought I could deal with it for a couple of weeks-”  
“Lisa, I don't think I can-”  
“No, Waylon, we're doing this. I've been soothing your feelings this entire god damn time. Never once have you asked me what I thought. What I wanted, how I felt about this all. I was going to stare down the eye of the storm and come out the other side of it, but you're making it really fucking difficult.”  
“Lisa..”  
  


She turned the car around a corner and pulled the car up a slip road towards the national park nearby. The cityscape behind them began to grow increasingly hard to see amongst the trees now surrounding them. Lisa gave a loud hiss as one of the tires almost struggled against a particularly muddy patch in the dirt track, her hands slamming down on the steering wheel as they began moving once again with a jolt. Get angry, getting angry was easier than facing down the fact she just wanted him back.  
“You were gone for so long.. I didn't think I'd ever see you again and then.. and then _him_. You bring him home looking so _guilty_. What happened?” her voice cracked.  
The car skidded to a halt, just in front of a ridge that gave them a view out over the city below. Lisa's grip on the steering wheel made her knuckles pale, anything to stop her hands from shaking. Waylon's shoulders were hunched, barely able to make eye contact with her. The last time he'd seen her so shaken up was after a rally she'd been part of that'd gone south very quickly. How had he been so unobservant?  
“I don't know how you can just... disassociate so easily. The past week has just been a breeze for you hasn't it? Pretending that nothing's happening and once you've played your part you can go back to your own little world with him. The fuck is wrong with you?”  
“Lisa... that's not-”  
“The fuck it's not. You were gone for nearly two months and somehow along the line you just decide that he's what you want. I watched the clips, I saw what he did, I've seen what he's done. Shit-- Things would have worked out Waylon, but no, the minute things get difficult you just run away, don't you?” Whether she wanted them to or not the tears began prickling at her eyes. “You have a _family_ and you were all too quick to use us to get out of there, and now you're using him to help you get by whilst you have to keep away.” She stopped and gave a cruel laugh, “When you told me that you'd had a fight I'd half expected you to walk out on him. What you're doing to that man is _cruel_. Do you really love him or are you just playing him?”  
“Damnit Lisa.” He tried to shout, it was more like a low growl as his fingers ran through his hair; trying to stop the sharp tingling. “I get it. I've fucked up. I don't know what to do. Of course I fucking missed you. Thinking of getting home to you and the kids was about all that kept me going. I didn't use you for my own ends, I was being honest with him. I didn't start this-”  
“No, but you were _real quick_ to jump on the bandwagon he presented you.”  
“You weren't _there Lisa_. We were all we had. We kept each other alive. You didn't see what they did to me, because I didn't have a camera for it. I've tried so hard to not think about it, really I have. I don't see the Engine when I close my eyes anymore, but damn it if there isn't times I don't still _feel it_. I was staring at that thing for nearly two god damn weeks with a guard that enjoyed abusing the power he'd been given.”  
“Waylon-”  
“He didn't get to do anything awful, but for some reason he just really fucking enjoyed licking us. Maybe he could taste the fear in my sweat, I don't know. But I spent that entire time terrified, none of the other wardens or guards stopped him. I'd heard other patients whispering about the things he'd done to them... Even when Billy Hope's Walrider trashed the place and set me free I was still terrified. I know that none of those people who chased me really knew what it was they were doing, we'd all been pushed to the edge. I still don't know the full extent of what they did to Eddie there, but he gets it. And I wanted to come home to you all and get back to normal, but I _can't_. I'm not the person I was when I left. I'm not going to be able to just get over this.”  
“I'm not _telling_ you to get over it.” Lisa shoved him, her lip curling as the tears streamed down her face. “I'm not telling you I had it worse than you, I'm not here to compete over _pain._ I wanted you to let me in. I wanted you to talk to me. I have always tirelessly been here for you and then you overnight change your mind and don't think to talk to me about it. You don't even have the courage to be _honest_ with me about it. You'd prefer to kid yourself and not think about anyone else but you.”  
“I've been in survival mode, Lisa. Surviving is all I can focus on. I'm _sorry_. I'm _sorry_ I'm not as strong as you. I'm sorry I don't have the cast iron will you have. I'm sorry that after everything I felt weak and he was there. I know I'm screwing you both over. I'm in too fucking deep to be able to just stop.”  
“You can't have both of us.”  
“That's not-”  
“I know you're completely unable to make decisions, you've always made that abundantly clear with how helpful you've been.” Lisa's expression turned into a frown and wiped her eyes with the back of her forearm. Her brows dipped as she pulled on the armour. “I've shed enough tears over you Waylon. I'm done tormenting myself, so I'm making the decision for you. You go. You stay with him. You be happy. I will live. You can go and survive with him and I'll make the life I wanted for myself. After New Year I'm sending the kids to live with my parents. I have a lot of mess to clear up and I don't have the energy to deal with Murkoff's lawyers. the kids and your bullshit.”  
“Lisa- What-”  
“I don't deserve to be treated like your second choice. When we got married it was till death do us part, you said it yourself, Mukoff changed you, so the man I married died in there. I don't deserve to be left hanging around until you decide that you've made a mistake with Eddie. You made a promise to me, we were going to look out for each other.” The engine roared as she started it again. “I'm still going to look out for you. I'm still going to drag Murkoff through hell kicking and screaming, but you've made your decision clear.”  
“Lisa-”  
“Shit you don't even have the constitution to stick to your guns.” She sucked on her teeth and put the car into reverse. “This is the cost of your decision Waylon. This is what you wanted, right?”  
“Shit, I can't do this, Lisa. Not now. I don't want to play mind games-”  
“Mind games? You think that's what this is?” Lisa barked, making the car jolt as she slammed the breaks on again. “Fuck you, Waylon. Instead of being so caught up in your own god damn pain why don't you put yourself in someone else's position. Knowing that you're fucking him and you come home all too happy to put your hands all over me like you're _owed it_. It's either one or the other. You don't want to pretend any more, great, neither do I.”  
“You said you were fine. I _did_ ask you.”  
“And that means I have to be okay with it all the time?”  
“No, but, I only kept things going with Eddie because you said you were. I can't change it now-”  
“I can't stand to look at you right now and I need time to myself.” Lisa held her hand up. Her eyes were still a little red, but the frown she wore was far more prevalent.  
“Right...”  
“You made this situation Waylon, you're going to have to live with the fact that I am not obliged to put up with _everything_ you throw my way. I'm a human being with feelings of my own.”  
“So this is why Miles is hanging around, huh?”  
Lisa laughed, it was cold and distant. “Miles is around because he's been my support. But unlike you the support I get doesn't involve getting fucked. The man needs a place to stay. You don't get to judge me or try and fling shit my way.”  
“Do you love him?”  
“No. No I don't Waylon. You can spin whatever story you want in your head about what's going on with us to make yourself feel better, but no. He may want more, but I am not in a position to give it to him. I'm still in mourning, not all of us can disassociate as well as you.”  
“I'm fucking sorry alright. It just _happened_.”  
“You can keep saying sorry till you're blue in the face, Way, but I need to take care of myself for a while. Sorry doesn't automatically fix things.”  
“I came down because I missed you all. I wanted it to feel like a normal Christmas again. I've loved it... Just my parents coming down really took it out of me.”  
Her expression faltered for a split second and was broken up by a deep inhale and slow exhale. “I've missed you too... Asshole. I have a lot I need to get off my chest, it's finding the words for it. I still love you, but I need to look out for myself too. I can't let go when you're still so close. Let me find my way like you're finding yours.”  
Waylon nodded silently.

 

Despite Lisa saying that Waylon was great at disassociating the afternoon dragged on. He'd had to come up with some reason as to why he'd come home early. Lisa had shrugged, her smile there but not quite reaching her eyes. Miles must have been able to read her like a book because he got to his feet when he saw her at the door. She shook her head and told him to stay put. Every once in a while Miles shot a glare in Waylon's direction and each time an acrid taste shot up the back of his throat. The only thing that dissuaded him was Eddie clearing his throat. He played it up as a 'tell' when they played card games, but he was an astoundingly good liar as he cheated, bluffed and swindled his way to victory with each game they played. He even managed to catch out Imani one of the shrewdest people Waylon had ever met. He wondered if she knew about what was going on but didn't say anything. She was the sort of person to watch and observe and then corner you in seemingly simple conversation and ask something casually. It was all a ploy. No wonder it'd taken Lisa this long to explode at him about everything. He felt like a heel.

  
“You've got to be counting cards.” Tyreek gave an exasperated sigh and threw his hand down. Once again Eddie had the winning hand. “I'm out.”  
“My apologies for being good at this.” Eddie shrugged, admittedly constantly winning was getting a little boring on his part. But he was being distracted by the stink eye he kept catching Miles shooting at Waylon. He really hoped that they didn't erupt into a fight, that was the last thing they all needed. “We could always play another game?”  
“I think I've seen enough cards to last a week.”  
“I've got just the thing.” Waylon got up and removed a box from the stack that Eddie had come to know as 'the game shelf'. There were video games, board games, card games and just about everything in between stored there. The box was an eerie green colour. “Betrayal at House on the Hill.”  
“How do you play it?” Imani glanced from the box to Waylon.  
“It's easy, but it's a bit wordy so get some drinks and we'll get to it.”

 

It ended up with Miles being the 'betrayer' accidentally setting off the omen for the first game. The house had begun flooding and the others had to reach the top of the house to get free from the cursed house's clutches. Everyone had made it back except for Eddie. Eddie had been trapped in the basement when the haunt phase began and had been unable to escape before his character drowned. Part of him didn't want to take it seriously, but he couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by it.  
They played another round, the next one involved giant spiders and Tyreek being the unwilling host. This round however had been much more successful and found Miles and Waylon actively working together, perhaps it'd be too much to hope for this trend to continue.  
Lisa had come home about half way through, this time with the groceries. She'd watched for a while before beckoning Miles and Waylon to come and join her in the kitchen under the guise of helping her prep dinner. Eddie didn't hear raised voices or tense tones which made him feel less on edge. Waylon had managed to ease off too, the way he'd hunched his shoulders before was non-existent. It was how it should be, but he didn't know what had been said. But from what Lisa had said to him the other day he could probably guess. He was hardly surprised and he'd made it known that he felt terrible.  
Imani had suggested playing another round with the boys, it'd been fun but he couldn't help but find himself distracted by the lack of noise coming from the kitchen.

The three of them emerged not long after, Waylon nodded at Eddie and waved him over.

“Lisa said on her way back she spotted Murkoff vans around. They weren't marked, but they looked like the same ones from before.” Waylon sighed. Apparently there wouldn't be an end to this. Not for now.  
“I see.” Eddie steeled himself and gave a short sharp nod. “We'll have to take our leave, no rest for the wicked and all.”  
“I'm sorry. I'm not trying to chase you two out, but I don't want you being caught.” Lisa frowned before pulling Waylon into a hug. “Maybe next year won't be such a shit show huh?”  
“Yeah... I'm sor-”  
“Enough. Let's just get you some supplies.” Her expression wasn't as severe as it had been, more that intense worry he'd seen the last time Murkoff showed up at their house. “Mom, dad, they're back in town again.”  
Imani nodded and took the boys upstairs to get them packed up. The sight broke Eddie's heart. _You did this. You tore this family apart. If you hadn't come back with Waylon then this would have all been avoided._ His jaw tensed as he beelined for the dufflebag they'd brought down and began putting their bits and pieces in.  
“Staggering leave? Make sure they don't know that we're all here.” Miles' brow quirked, now constantly shooting glances out the window. On the roof above the Walrider had formed, acting as something of a sentry. “I'll leave last.”  
“You shouldn't leave at all.” Eddie spoke up. “Murkoff will come here, someone needs to be here to keep an eye on Lisa. She's causing them more trouble than Waylon is, it doesn't matter that you're in the public eye, these people will find a way to cover their tracks.”  
“If they do take me then it goes to show their corruption.” Lisa huffed. “And you'll have to leave Miles. As strng as you are, this isn't Mt. Massive. There won't be mass slaughter here-”  
“Spud, you're not going to leave yourself open like that.” Tyreek frowned, “Darlin' we'll take you and the kids, we've got the means.”  
“I've got too much work to do. It'll be fine. The Viral Leaks people have me covered.” Waylon made a small noise of disapproval, though Lisa quickly silenced him by shoving a freezer box into his arms. “Stop looking so worried and put stuff into the car.”

 

It was all very melancholic. Nobody from then out particularly spoke more than a few words to each other at a time. Just another reminder that even if they thought they were safe that Murkoff would always be on their heels until they were gone. It'd been a good week or two whilst it had lasted and Waylon didn't regret coming down. Perhaps he regretted trying to play everything off as being fine, if he'd been more honest then things might have gone differently. The dream was over now, it was back to the harsh reality of living on the run. Back up to their isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere. Admittedly thinking back on the months he'd spent with Eddie there still felt dreamlike. Surreal and fantastical at points, then others not so much. Perhaps this time he'd be able to grab a games console rather than flying out the door at a moment's notice.

 

“You keep in touch, y'hear?” Tyreek gave Eddie an open palmed patting on the shoulder in passing. Perhaps the man had been aware of what was going on, it wasn't exactly like they had been overt about their relationships over the week, but they knew Lisa well enough. “You're part of the family now.”  
“Ah, that's.. very kind of you. But-”  
“No buts, you saved Way and you've been looking out for him and my lil spud. I know you feel like you caused this, but a company like Murkoff? This storm has been brewing for years, it just took the two of you to bring it home. It's difficult now, but it'll be worth it. Sometimes things have to get messy before they can be fixed, you remember that.”  
“Thank you.”  
“We'll do what we can for you too. Even if we're a hundred miles away, we'll come grab you if you need it.” Tyreek offered Eddie another smile and headed off to the garage.  
Eddie sucked and bit on his lips, trying to keep himself steady. This family had been nothing but kind to him. Nothing but giving. What could he do for them? Maybe it would be better if-  
  


The car was packed up even if it wasn't the bulkiest of loads, camping in the summer always meant a car fit to bursting point in their family. It was just a couple of duffle bags, the freezer box and the presents that had been exchanged. They'd waited until it'd gotten dark before they set off, this time the radio remained off. The two were silent for the entire trip back, there was too much to say and too little time between events to even begin to process their predicament. It was clear neither had wanted to leave the comfort of Waylon's house. But if anything it gave Waylon more of a tangible goal. He wanted that. Those two weeks with the family, even with Miles there to be their norm. It'd felt good. Even if it was selfish of him to want to shove that upon them, he'd found direction once again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bend your branches to the ground and hold me close  
> Let me harmonize with all we knew  
> Share your sympathy and weep for me  
> Oh, willow, heal the hearts I've broken  
> Make me pure and start my song anew 
> 
> For I only write love songs  
> To those whom I don't love  
> I only reach for him  
> Who's tied to someone else's glove  
> That which I hold inside  
> Which I admire and deride  
> Which I protect and hide is yours"  
> Emilie Autumn - Willow
> 
> Sorry this has taken so long. I've fallen back into old fandoms, left my job and started a new one with a bit more of a hectic schedual than before. But I've had this chapter mostly finished knocking around for ages.  
> Next chapter thing start to heat up again, can't all be sunshine and dreams for these guys.
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	27. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Groom readies himself and the cabin for an all out assault. However what neither him or Waylon were expecting was for there to be casualties on their side. Miles arrives to deliver some bad news whilst on the hunt for a missing Lisa. Unfortunately the potential attack from Murkoff came sooner than they expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nights go by  
> Hours pass and moonlight dies  
> Close your eyes  
> You're dreaming and so am I
> 
> You know I can't stay here and I won't pretend  
> All that begins never comes to an end  
> It felt so familiar, it's all that remains  
> I still remember
> 
> When we were strangers  
> I would believe I was walking in my sleep  
> We were strangers  
> When I believed I could wake up from this dream"

It hadn't taken long for Eddie to get settled back into the setting of the Cabin. As far as he was concerned when he was on the cusp of disassociating this was his kingdom, this was his, all of it. Whereas once before there was a sort of childish playfulness about the way he explored and made his mark, there was something more... foreboding about it. One afternoon when they'd made a quick trip to the corner store about a mile away, Waylon had found.. traps of some sort. They were easily deactivated if you knew they were there and it immediately made him realise why Eddie was insisting that they walked everywhere. It was like tire spikes the police used. But it was made from an assortment of animal bones and horns. It looked horrific. There was a trip cord just on the south of the building that when triggered would send wood and bone shards flying like shrapnel to tear and shred. He'd even caught Eddie sharpening down flints and branches to make what appeared to be arrows. He couldn't stand it. It made everything feel awfully real again. That hideous reminder that he couldn't relax now. That with all the legal issues that were being brought to attention, in the shadows the company was baring its teeth and sharpening its claws. How many more would fall victim to it? He missed the light-heartedness of before.

“ _I'm doing this for you_.” Eddie looked up from the branch he was bending into a bow. It was a simple construction made with the string he'd bought from the store the other day. “ _We don't know when they will strike. But I'm not having them take what's mine_.”  
So it wasn't Eddie for now. It was Rübezahl. It made sense, but part of him wondered what had made Eddie retreat so much, or had Rübezahl's desire to protect what he viewed as rightfully his been all it had taken to overpower him?  
“Right..” Waylon muttered, heading back into the cabin. He hoped that it wouldn't come to be necessary.

The Groom stayed outside for most of the day. Every so often Waylon would look outside and catch another glimpse of the horrors he was concocting. At one point he was sure he heard trees being cut down. The ear-splitting noise of the creaking and groaning then followed by a ground shaking crash. Waylon stood by the back window and watched as The Groom scaled a tree to tie up more rope and pivots. It was an intricate pulley system. But the final piece held horrendous implications. Trip a wire and two giant tree trunks would swing and crush whatever got in between them. He could almost vividly see Murkoff Militia getting crushed like watermelons. He felt himself gag a little at the thought. As much of the horror as he'd seen in Mt. Massive, he thought it'd been left behind. No such luck. Perhaps it was going to be necessary, but he realised he was turning into one of those 'Not in My Back Yard' types. If it needed to be done, then do it, just not where he had to watch it. Always avoiding consequences. It was a terrible narrative. This entire experience had only managed to cement that he was, in fact, a terrible person.

 

“ _You are troubled._ ” The Groom murmured, dusting his jeans off. Despite having lost the light an hour beforehand he'd diligently kept working on fortifications. Waylon had to wonder what it was that brought him back inside until he heard his stomach growl. Ah yes, the promise of a loyal bride ever awaiting his return with dinner. He hated this. He wanted to spend time with Eddie, not the creature.  
“Is this _really_ necessary?” His arms were folded tightly around him, shoulders hunched. Once there was a time where speaking back to The Groom would have meant death, the air would have been stiflingly heavy. He'd have felt his mouth dry and his palms sweat. Now..? He felt tired. “I'm tired of fighting.”  
“ _We will not surrender, darling._ ” He replied firmly. Within a moment he stood before Waylon, arms outstretched and clasping his shoulders. “ _Why have you lost heart? You wanted to see them burn did you not?_ ”  
“I didn't expect this to become so...” He couldn't find the words. It was too close for comfort. With the legal battle going on it kept it away. It was a distant obscure concept rather than something he could see. It wasn't tangible before. Now it was too real. “The weight... It's too close. Too personal. It's-- Shit, I can't explain this right...”  
“ _Take your time._ ” The Groom's warm hands remained on his shoulders, though now his thumbs were dug in a little deeper; drawing small circles that were meant to be comforting but still too suffocatingly close.  
“I'm running again. After all this, after everything, I thought we were finally taking the fight to their turf.” Waylon grimaced and shrugged, trying to free himself from The Groom's grip. “This is just a cabin. They have military grade weapons. And we've got... hunter's traps. We can't _beat_ them.”  
“ _I am aware_.” His eyes narrowed, a flash of annoyance spreading across his features. Waylon stayed strong and took a step back.  
“I can't do this... I'm not. I'm not strong like you are. Like Lisa is. Like Miles is. I run at the first sign of trouble.” He felt a lump forming at the back of his throat. His eyes burning. Every word carefully enunciated to avoid the chance of his voice cracking. Now wasn't the time for a pity parade but by gods if he didn't want to just lie down and forget about it all.  
“ _Darling._ ” For the first time, Waylon saw an expression cross the Groom's face that resembled something more like Eddie. His brows had dipped, but it wasn't a frown. It was a look of something morose. “ _You do yourself a disservice. You are stronger, braver and smarter than you realise. But, we will not be staying here. I may be fortifying the cabin, but I am not a fool. This will not be a Hollywood death in a blaze of glory. We will live to see another day. I may be able to withstand such an assault, but you would not. You are too important to sacrifice like this. You are the figurehead of this rebellion._ ” He paused and stepped closer, arms open albeit slower than before. Initially Waylon hung back, but the warmth of his arms won him over. He hated how easy he caved for the two of them. He hated how quickly he crumbled. The plaid shirt soon gained a wet patch, Waylon's hands gripping the material and burying his face against the other's shoulder. Despite his yearning to stop fighting, the fear of his own mortality was greater. He didn't want this to be it. There was still too much left to do. “ _There will be no Martyrs today, darling, especially not you._ ”

 

They sat and ate dinner together huddled up on the sofa. A blanket was pulled up over Waylon's legs and ankles whilst he remained glued to Eddie's side, once again they'd found some old dvd boxset to put on as background noise. Waylon wasn't really watching it, mostly because he knew what each episode was by the first few frames and Eddie was more concerned with watching Waylon. He was leaning too much of Eddie, he knew that. But he couldn't help how blank he felt. He expected himself to be a bundle of nerves, but he didn't feel anything. He felt entirely numb, bar the urge to cry creeping up every so often. He knew it was because he'd forgotten to bring a bottle of his own meds with him. He'd been on them solidly for nearly two weeks back home, this was just the inevitable come down.  
“Are you ready to run if I tell you to?” Eddie finally broke the silence. The harshness of his voice had lifted. The Groom was waiting. Resting and gathering strength for the inevitable battle.  
“What about you?”  
“You did see the gym, didn't you?” His brow quirked. The sharp levity and dismissal, ah yes, the Gluskin avoidance technique.  
“There's going to be more men than that.”  
“Bullets don't exactly work on the Walriders.”  
“No, but they work on you. You are not bullet proof. I know you feel invincible when Rübezahl is in control and you may have a fairly solid stomach, but muscles don't stop bullets.”  
“I'm too fast. Besides, I'm not the one that matters.”  
“You don't get to do that.” Waylon leant up and set his empty bowl on the coffee table. “I'm not more important than you. You don't get to say no martyrs then-”  
“Shhh.” Eddie soothed, reaching up for him again. “I'm not going to get close enough to them. Once that first trap triggers down the hill we'll get going. This is just hypothetical if they do get close to the cabin. I've cleared enough of a route for the car for us to follow. It'll be off road for a while but it'll put us back on the highway. This is, of course, assuming that they even know where we are. I'm sorry, I've spooked you, haven't I?”  
“I'm...”  
“Tired, I know.” He pulled Waylon back into his arms and nuzzled him closely. “This too shall pass.”  
“That's oddly philosophical of you.”  
“I'm trying this thing where I remind myself that nothing is permanent.”  
“I can't help but feel like you're dealing with all this better than I am.”  
Eddie gave a shrug, “I can't say. I'm just keeping my eyes forward. I can't say it's healthy because I'm not thinking about how I feel about it. I can reflect clearly once it's done with.”  
“But how do you feel about it?”  
“Miserable. Like you, I'd hoped it was behind us, but I can't change it. Worrying and wishing for something else won't make a difference. It's doing something about it, and planning that will-”

The back door swung open, making the two almost leap out of their skin. Eddie barged up and stood in front of Waylon, eyes narrowed. His skin crawled and his nerves were singing. He recognised the feeling and tried to reject it with all he had. Waylon could feel his heart in his throat. Pounding and his mouth drying. He expected to hear the sound of a gun cocking, perhaps a few rounds firing off. Really from everything Eddie had said he'd expected there to be more warning that their end was now.  
“Shit- She's not here is she?”  
Eddie exhaled heavily, slouching from his previous squared shoulder stance. “No. No, she isn't.” He paused and regarded the mess of a man at the door. “I see you really were raised in a barn, Upshur. Usually knocking is considered more sociable-”  
“I don't have time for this shit.” Miles growled and backed away from the door.  
“Wait- wait, what's happened?” Waylon shoved past Eddie.

He could see the venom in Miles' glare. His gut felt like it folded in on itself and a whole new wash of dread hit him.  
“Lisa's gone.” Waylon's hand covered his mouth, the tremor finally hitting him. _Someone else caught in the crossfire of your mess._ “If she's not here, then they've taken her. She was supposed to be at the courthouse today, some ex doctors that had worked for Murkoff were going to testify on our side of the case. The doctors didn't show up and at first I'd thought they'd chickened out. Then when Lisa didn't show... They're going to use it.”  
Eddie had turned off the dvd and switched to the terrestrial signal, sure enough it was over the news. Neighbours were being interviewed about the disappearance and how it'd been no secret that Waylon had returned home for Christmas.  
' _Sources are also suggesting that the fugitive Eddie Gluskin was seen at the Park residence. There's no evidence to suggest a link but..'_ A woman cut in, she laughed sardonically.  
' _Eddie Gluskin was a woman killer rife in the 80's. He belongs in a facility like Mt. Massive. If Lisa Park really is missing then we all know exactly who to blame.'_  
'Trudy-'  
'It'll only be a couple of days before her body shows up and he starts crying-'

Waylon snatched the remote fro Eddie's grip and turned it off. His mouth was pursed and his hands trembling. “So that's how they're going to play it. _Bastards_.”  
“How much do you wanna bet Murkoff paid her to say that?” Miles dragged his tongue over his teeth. “We know it wasn't you-”  
Eddie slouched on the sofa behind him, his palms coming up to cover his face. “It enough to get blood in the water again. They have their sacrificial lamb whilst taking out the most vocal opposition...”  
“She can't be _dead_. Murkoff's dirty but they're not in the habit of hiring hit squads on people, right?” Waylon could feel the gnawing at the back of his mind getting worse. He did this. He knew he needed to get the truth out there, so did Lisa, but was this worth the cost?  
“You did _see_ the same place we did, right?” Miles let out a small scoff, watching Waylon grapple to turn his computer on. “They sent wave after wave of militia at Mt. Massive to try and destroy the truth. They have enough money to hush it up, one person? Easily done. You've _seen_ the deep web, you know the shit that hangs around there.”  
“This can't be happening...” The programmer whispered to himself.

Each forum showed up the same thing, twitter was trending the hashtag #breakthesilence and #lisapark amongst other things. For such a public figure to have up and disappeared... people weren't going to be so stupid as to believe that Eddie had done it, right? The more he dug the less he wanted to read. Some were calling for a man-hunt on him, other people were asking what in the hell Waylon was doing about it. _Trying to get answers you fucks._ He could feel his jaw tensing, his teeth clenched and his typing growing increasingly aggressive. Quickly he sent an email to Julian at ViralLeaks, see what they knew their end. He was then faced with a decision. Did he take up the mantle to galvanise people, or did he keep to the shadows? _You can't hide behind her forever._

“Waylon..” Eddie went to put his hand on his shoulder, but Waylon jolted it away.  
“Just give me a minute.” He pushed the chair back away from the desk and began fiddling with cables, the router he'd had sat in his bag since Mt. Massive. He'd do better this time, he wouldn't get caught by some asshole like Blaire this time. He'd be careful, he'd learn from his mistakes. “I'm going to get answers.”

 

It was like watching Waylon playing with the computers back at the asylum, the appearance of a small and scared man lifted. His determination was unmatched when he was so deeply engaged, it reminded Eddie why he relied on him as his pillar so much. Why he couldn't see it was beyond him, but to watch him like this made his stomach flutter. He must have been staring intently, because when Miles lightly jabbed him in the side he almost swore.  
“Leave him to it. We've got to talk.” The ex-journalist's eyes were dark. They always were since the asylum, but the way his lashes cast a shadow on the red irises made Eddie's skin crawl.  
The man let himself be lead outside. He could still hear the dull tapping of the keys vaguely. It would have been almost deafening with the crickets out here at one point but the winter snow had put a stop to that. Eddie hunched under his jacket, his fingers tingling with the cold burn. How was Miles not dying of cold? Did he not feel anything any more? He had a jacket, but it was an autumn jacket. More for the sake of aesthetics than any practicality.  
“These traps.” Miles gestured to the tree behind him. “You know and I know that they'll be coming. You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that Waylon might not make it. Lisa might not make it. I'm not going to stop looking for her, but with the way we are now... there's a very good chance that-”  
“Stop it.” Eddie spat. “It won't happen.”  
“Denial isn't going to make this go away.” Miles hissed, his breath visible in the chill. It was less of an exhale of displeasure and more like watching a dragon growl with their fiery breath billowing before them. “You can't shove your fingers in your ears and pretend that the worst won't happen. You of all people should understand that.”  
“All the more reason to fight harder to make sure it doesn't.” His fists clenched at his sides. He couldn't stop himself as he lunged forward and grabbed Miles by the front of his shirt. “You may get by with nihilism and cynicism, but I haven't run from Murkoff as hard as I can so I can stay numb. If I am barbaric to say that even now when I am fearing the worst, I will continue to accept the pain. Pain at least means I can still feel. That I am still my own person. I will not be told how I am to deal with this because you think you know better than me, you patronising fuck.”  
“You _aren't_ like him any more. You can stand through a hail of bullets and live. Waylon can't.” Miles barked, digging his grip into Eddie's hands. The other didn't budge.  
“I will do everything I can to protect him. I will not let them touch him. I will take anything and everything they throw at us to keep him safe.” His teeth were bared and his blood felt like it was on fire. It was as though a red mist had descended. So fixated upon Miles he hadn't noticed the way his shadow warped behind him, the nanomachines gathering at his back to create the image of Rübezahl. If there was anything that brought the two together it was the matter of Waylon's safety.  
“And what if they do send a hail of bullets here? You may be able to block them, but there's always the chance that one will hit. What then, tough man?”

“ _Then the world will know a pain it has never seen the likes of_.” His grip tightened and Miles choked, now actively trying to escape his grip.  
Eddie's eyes had changed. Like Miles' the whites of his eyes were now black, but his irises weren't the deep red. His blue eyes remained, but had an almost ethereal glow about them. The ex-journalist had to avert his gaze for a split second, almost unable to handle the crushing feeling threatening to overwhelm him. Was this it? Was this the feeling of dread and pure terror that Eddie had first felt around him? His forehead prickled as a cold sweat began beading. He wasn't their enemy and yet here he was pushing his buttons enough to make him think he was.  
“You can't do that.” Miles gasped, struggling to find the floor. “The world won't have taken Waylon away from you, it would be Murkoff.”  
“ _Murkoff, the world, humans; they're all the same blend of filth. If they take this from me my reign will not be merciful or benevolent_ ”  
“The fuck are you talking about Eddie-”  
“ _Eddie is no longer here_.”

Miles' eyes widened for a split second. The Walrider was meant to be an extension of the host, not _take the fuck over_. His mouth grew dry, Lisa had mentioned Waylon had said something about Eddie being different but he didn't realise this was it. What this what Murkoff had intended for their final product to be, or was this some catastrophic accident?  
“Who the fuck are you then? The Groom?”  
“ _I am the Lord of the Mountain._ ”  
Looked like the Groom got an upgrade. “Eddie you need to calm down. I'm not saying that anything bad will happen to Waylon, but you need to be _prepared_ for that eventuality.”  
“ _My Bride will be fine. The same cannot be said for you_ -”  
“Eddie!” The backdoor to the cabin swung open, Waylon's eyes were wide and panicked. “Eddie, put him down, I've fucked up-shit- this wasn't meant to happen-”  
Rübezahl let Miles drop unceremoniously and rushed to him, taking his hands gently into his. Miles hissed at the impact and looked up. He hadn't heard anything since he'd got to the cabin but something didn't feel right. There was meant to be some form of noise even during winter in the forest. It was _too_ quiet. And they'd taken it for granted. _Shit_.

“ _Darling_ , _what troubles you?_ ” His tone softened, watching Waylon's eyes grow watery. “ _What has happened?_ ”  
“They know we're here. We never should have gone home for Christmas--”

 

Further into the woods, the sound of an ear-splitting crash rang through clearly. Rübezahl's eyes widened, freezing on the spot. The groan of the trees creaking and crashing together, soon the sound of anguished cries echoed alongside it. The awful truth began to sink in. The Milita was here. The beast let go of Waylon's hands and grit his teeth.  
“ _It doesn't matter. There's a cupboard in the spare room, there's a false back panel. Use it to get to the basement. Stay there until it gets quiet. If you get onto the road they will find you and destroy the car. I will hold them off._ ”  
“Eddie, you said we'd leave togeth-”  
“ _Now!_ ” He shot a look over his shoulder, the nanomachines re-materialised next to him. Waylon was pretty sure that Rübezahl's form was getting bigger and bigger each time he saw it... Murkoff really had made a monster.  
Miles didn't give him time to think and grabbed his upper arm, dragging him back inside the cabin. He thought about grabbing his laptop but there wasn't enough time, and that thing had caused enough trouble as it was. Murkoff must have put a tracker in it when they confiscated it before. The email response from Julian had been equally damning. He reprimanded him for being so naïve about going home, their last big leak provider had to seek amnesty in an entirely different country altogether and even then he was a wanted fugitive to this day. _This isn't a game Waylon, I told you there would be consequences, this isn't one of your cute university protests, these are the big leagues and they have more money and power than you can begin to fathom. You painted a big target on you and your family the minute you sent Miles that email. When you left that cabin they sent men out to verify that was your location. They've been waiting for the right time to strike and now you need to run again. This may be the last time I ever hear from you, if I don't I'll assume that they killed you. It may be more for us to use against Murkoff, but I'm sorry things had to end like this for what it's worth. I hope that I'm wrong. I really do. But you need to get to safety now._

He'd been an idiot. And now Eddie was paying for it. He didn't even want to know when Eddie had managed to discover the secret panel, he wondered if Lisa's parents even knew it existed. The cabin couldn't have been all that old. And yet there it was. Miles pushed it and it slipped aside. For a split second Waylon got a chance to glance out the window. He watched in horror as a group of men tripped off the log trap. Eddie howled with cruel laughter as the pendulums swung and crushed two men outright and probably shattered the bones of another. They were all covered in blood and more were joining the rush. They were nothing compared to Eddie and Rübezahl's strength. He only needed to give a swipe of his arm as the nanomachines mimicked the movement and sent a handful flying. He could hear the wet crunching and his stomach churned-  
Miles yanked him into the cupboard and lead him down the stairs. The panel closed behind them and Waylon spotted the metal backing. The hell was it made from? What was this even doing here? The asylum wasn't really all that far away from the cabin, was it possible that this was what Murkoff hoped when they started digging into the mountain? Was this a fallout shelter from the sixties? There were too many questions and Waylon was finding it increasingly harder and harder to breathe. Just what he needed on top of this, a panic attack.  
“It's going to be fine.” Miles didn't exactly make it sound all that convincing, even as he gently took his hands and slowly took it step by step down the passage. It felt like he was descending into the earth's core. He didn't think he was even in his in-law's cabin any more. This wasn't happening. Nothing made sense any more. “Just focus on my voice. Waylon? Stay with me. You've got this. One step at a time. It's going to be alright.”  
Miles' voice was like a husky mantra to follow. The air was warm, stale and oddly comforting. But it didn't stop the darkness at the edges of his vision creeping further in until; nothing.

 

_Eddie, you'd promised me there wouldn't be any martyrs...._

 

Waylon woke up slumped in an old arm chair. There was a small layer of dust on everything, but despite the bizarreness, it was still furnished well. There was a fridge, a fireplace, several lamps and a bare overhead light. Miles was sat on another sofa hunched over himself, fingertips pressed together and staring at a patch on the floor. The Walrider flickered here and there, silently adjusting something on the hob. Domesticated? Or had Miles just issued it a command? Nothing seemed to surprise him about it any longer. His head throbbed.  
“Wha-”  
“Eddie's been captured.” Miles replied sharply. “They had.. something. Or maybe he just got cocky.”  
“How?”  
“I don't know. But he sacrificed himself so _you_ would be safe. That's what we were fighting about before. Dumbass white knight heroics got him stupid.”  
“But he was becoming a force of nature-”  
“Yeah, and imagine how much the military would pay for a monster like that?”  
“He's not a fucking monster Miles.”  
“Well he isn't fucking human any more either!”  
“Says the man using his Walrider to heat up a tin of fucking _beans_.”  
“You didn't see what I saw. That's not a god damn Walrider-”  
“Rübezahl.” Waylon interrupted and groaned. “What you saw is an entity called Rübezahl. You told him to get control of his nano-machines and he did it. Since you told us about the Wendigos things have been getting weirder and weirder. He keeps talking about being the Lord of the Mountain. It's an old Czech legend about a Woodwose that protects the mountains.”  
“....You think they knew?”  
“I think they realised, yeah.”  
Miles got to his feet and began pacing, going through documents on his tablet. He knew he had something stored somewhere, a file that didn't make any sense, but took copy of because anything was evidence. The attachments were really what made him save it. Photos of the cabin, the Park household at Christmas. One was taken in the middle of the night, there had been no lights on, but there was a distinctive outline on the roof. It looked almost like the beast that had manifested for Eddie. The file had simply been called Variant. Therefore nothing especially defining, but it made sense.  
_The beast of the mountain is born anew._

It'd been so cryptic when he'd read it in the facility, it was uninhabited, no one there. But it was under construction. The hell did they plan to do with him? Nothing good.  
“They more than realised it. We've been looking at this from the wrong perspective.” Miles brows dipped. His face blanching as he scrolled through more and more documents. There were essays and papers about mythology, some dating back to the late 40's. The Walrider was always the goal, but this was their inspiration. And now they had it. “They were never after you. Not really, you were probably collateral to them. They wanted their research back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "As life goes on  
> I know that time will tear us apart  
> And take you away  
> And when you're gone  
> I'll wake up with a hand on my heart  
> And a foot in my grave 
> 
> When we were strangers  
> I would believe I was walking in my sleep  
> We were strangers  
> When I believed I could wake up from this dream"  
> The Birthday Massacre - Diaries
> 
>   
> Good lord! That one took a lot longer than I wanted it to. My writing vibe has been coming and going a lot lately, but I've managed to get a good rush of inspiration on despite everything. We're rapidly approaching the end and we're finally at the climax! What's going to be Waylon and Miles' next move? Is Lisa going to be safe? What's going to become of Eddie? But you know what I can confirm? A new Murkoff facility.
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	28. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon and Miles find the new facility that Eddie and Lisa have been taken to, news about the assault on the cabin goes national. Murkoff is heavily under fire not just from the public, the facility isn't quite what was expected.  
> The Lord of the Mountain has found his throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Under blue moon I saw you  
> So soon you'll take me  
> Up in your arms  
> Too late to beg you or cancel it  
> Though I know it must be the killing time  
> Unwillingly mine
> 
> Fate  
> Up against your will  
> Through the thick and thin  
> He will wait until  
> You give yourself to him"

“Their research?” Waylon looked at Miles as though he was vomiting pea soup and his head was spinning. “You mean they wanted something like this?”  
“Of course they did, but they never thought they could achieve it, at least not so soon. They weren't going around snapping up just any old mental patient. They were actively following family trees, maybe the Nazis discovered something in specific genetic patterns? Did Eddie ever mention anything about his family?”  
“He doesn't... really talk about them. You probably get why. You think his family history is tied to Murkoff's experiments?”  
“Perhaps not his directly. I don't know, but I'd need more evidence. For something like this to wake up in him and be so... _powerful_. It can't just be luck, can it?”  
“Look, Miles, I don't really care about the hows and the whys. I want to get him back. I want to fix this. I want to save Lisa. Did you hear anything about where they'd taken him?” Waylon cut off his train of thought and waved his arm dismissively.  
“Probably that facility I stumbled across months ago, if I deactivated all the others then that'll be their last one left- that I know of.”  
“Then let's go!” Waylon tried to stand up, but found the corners of his eyes succumbing to the darkness again. His vision growing blurry and his head swimming. “-Shit.”  
“We're going to be sensible about this.” Miles hadn't moved, but the Walrider appeared before Waylon and caught him. Once he was settled back bundled under a blanket the creature disappeared and reappeared at the hob. “Last time we were both stuck in the facilities with no food or water. Yeah, we made it through...” He paused and glanced to the stubs where his fingers were. “But I don't really trust our chances twice like that. We're gonna eat and then we'll gather up supplies.”  
“But the longer we wait...”  
“What use are you going to be like that? You're hungry and tired. I'm pretty bushed myself, I'm not going anywhere yet.”  
Waylon closed his eyes slowly and sunk back into the comfort of the chair. He hated how useless he was. But Miles was right. If they'd wanted him too, then they'd have raided the cabin. They probably hoped that with the hail of bullets he'd be shredded inside. Waylon was just collateral damage in the heat of all this. Eddie was the goal and Lisa was the mouthy head of the resistance. By comparison, he'd uploaded files and then disappeared. He'd been a coward. _Always running away-_  
His brow quirked and his mouth pulled into a firm line. He kicked his legs off the chair and made himself get up slower this time. The blanket stayed as he plodded towards the stairs. Waylon glanced between the stairs and Miles, the aforementioned brow raising again as he jolted his head to it.  
Miles shrugged. “I haven't seen anything out there. But brace yourself. It's not pretty.”  
Waylon had seen enough 'not pretty' in the past year to make him feel like he was immune to it. The stairs weren't nearly as steep as he remembered them being, but there was a distinctive depth to this basement. It'd be something to interrogate Lisa's parents about later.  
  
Sure enough, the cabin was wrecked. Scorch marks and bullet holes were scattered around liberally as though it was some pretentious modern art version of join the dots. The back door had been completely torn off and as such the snow had begun to creep further into the cabin. The once idyllic scenery was now barren. Trees had been ripped out of the ground, some completely stripped and burned. On its side was a 4x4 with a Gatling gun mounted on the back. It was charred and still smoking. How had he missed all this carnage? The air smelt putrid. Bodies had been just left like they were garden ornaments. The snow pink underneath them. Limbs were strewn around, there was even one soldier that had been left dangling impaled by a branch. Once this might have made him throw up. Now he looked upon it wearily. Part of him felt a small swell of pride that Eddie had given them so much hell, but at what cost? His freedom. Now he was back to being poked and prodded by 'scientists'. He crouched and picked up what was left of the deer skull Eddie had hung up outside. It was cracked and one horn had been snapped off. Inside there was a small trace of blood. But with all the blood that was caked on the outside he had to wonder if it was Eddie's or some poor bastard that got too close. The more he looked the more he got an idea for how long the carnage had continued. By the tipped 4x4 laid a man with what appeared to be one of Eddie's crafted spears. Waylon narrowed his eyes and approached the wreckage. It smelt putrid. The spear had gone straight through the back of the man's head, helmet and all, taking brain matter and bone with it. Waylon finally gagged. In an area with the most distressed snow laid the bow Eddie'd made. It'd been snapped, but not in vain. Using the string he'd used it to wrap it around a soldier's neck and almost sever it right off. The rope had dug in nearly an inch thick into the guy's neck, his eyes blown and blood streaming down his face.

Waylon decided he'd had enough and covered his mouth, heading back into the cabin. His feet stung from the cold but it was grounding him from giving into that warm sick feeling that crept up his throat.  
They got their war machine alright.

 

Once they'd eaten, Miles gathered up a backpack full of supplies. He promised they'd stop by a gas station on the way and get fresh non-potato chip based snacks too. But Waylon was still restless. Before they left Waylon checked his camera was still working. It was. He took pictures of the carnage in the yard and grabbed his laptop. He took that they'd survived the assault as a testament that this was meant to be. He posted the pictures wherever he could.  
_Murkoff have found me. I've spent months in hiding, but they came last night and they kidnapped Eddie Gluskin. This is what was left of them. Murkoff have taken Lisa Park and Eddie Gluskin for further experimentation and to silence. This is the reality of this company. This is what they will do. Murkoff got more than they bargained for._  
  
Miles drove. He insisted on it since it was technically his car and he'd missed it. It wasn't full of the junk he'd left it full of, admittedly most of it was empty sweet wrappers or bags of crisps he ate going between jobs, but it was his junk. Waylon only muttered in response that Eddie found it unsightly. He watched his emails double, triple and soon the notifications were beyond the point of being able to keep track of. Waylon knew he'd lit a match and dropped it onto the proverbial oil spill of a situation, but he was now enjoying the flames. It didn't take long for it to hit the news, soon the radio chatter was about the 'controversial pictures that emerged online'. Murkoff was denying any ties, that was until someone posted a zoomed in photo of the Murkoff logo that was stamped on one of the militia guy's id badge. The tune changed quickly and messily. Miles grimaced and repeatedly went to turn off the radio. Waylon smacked his hand away each time. He didn't even look at him, his brows drawn as he stared out the window. But he couldn't deny the dark satisfaction he got from hearing it. After all the shit they'd thrown at them, he could finally return fire.  
  


_When I was a child, I'd sit for hours_ __  
_Staring into open flame_ __  
_Something in it had a power,_ _  
_ _Could barely tear my eyes away_

 

He could just picture the riots taking place outside of Murkoff headquarters. He hoped that someone threw a petrol bomb in through their windows. After such a blatant declaration of war, there was nothing left. Legal action was too soft. He'd felt it when he put his foot down and sped away from Mt. Massive. The place needed to be destroyed. He'd entered Mt. Massive naïve, at first he thought it had left him unchanged, only more scared. Soon the realisation began to sink in that he'd emerged with the ability to allow himself to feel the rage that had bubbled within him for years. A means to articulate and use it. Maybe that was why he and Eddie worked so well, they both had this desire to destroy. Was he as disgusting as the Groom was? The debates that raged on the radio stations only seemed to prove it. At one point he could hear himself laughing as some poor Murkoff spokesperson was bombarded with questions. Julian must have let something else get released to the public, because now there were files about Murkoff's recorded radio chatter about the advance upon the cabin. Now they had attempted murder on their hands as well as kidnapping. This was the revolution he'd wanted. It wasn't some long drawn out wrapped up in red tape bullshit, it was quick, merciless and to the point. Soon other companies were coming under fire, businessmen who'd help fund Murkoff's experiments.  
Miles couldn't bring himself to look at the other. He wanted retribution for the lives that had been fucked up by them, but there was something to be said for reveling in another's misery. He was supposed to keep himself above this. Eddie had always wondered if he was a beast for doing the things he did, but Eddie hadn't actively created political unrest with the press of a button and then reveled in the chaos it wrought. Eddie was violent, but Waylon was downright ruthless.  
  


Though the sun had set, what was left of the light reflected off the snow. The clouded sky was a deep orange. Miles almost didn't need the headlights on, he could see perfectly fine, Walrider or no. The mood was reflected in the sky above.

“Waylon... shit you need to see this.”

 

It'd been slip roads and back routes for most of the journey, it almost looked identical to the route up to Mt. Massive. But unlike last time he could see smoke pouring into the sky already. He rolled down the window and was hit by a familiar smell. Woodsmoke and burning flesh.

_All you have is your fire..._  
_And the place you need to reach -_  
_Don't you ever tame your demons_  
_But always keep 'em on a leash_

Miles put his foot down and switched off the radio. Waylon didn't protest this time, but he didn't like the expression Waylon was wearing. The smoke meant disaster. He didn't know what he was expecting, he probably hoped that Eddie hadn't gone down without a fight. This was ridiculous.  
“Give them hell...” Waylon muttered under his breath.  
“Yeah, great, give them hell. We have to _get through_ that hell. Or did you forget that part?” Miles growled.  
The front of the institute was once again built up upon an older building. It was a regal looking manor house with rustic cabin elements. Waylon's teeth raked on his lower lip and glanced to the abandoned militia trucks. Miles was already wincing as he stepped out of the jeep. His Walrider flickered, already in a battle stance, ready to attack. Despite the smoke billowing from the building, it was oddly silent, or it seemed that way to Waylon. There was a tiny barely audible ringing. It must have been more audible to Miles given the expression he wore. But despite his pain, he kept on grabbing gear. On his jacket, he pinned a small camera and handed Waylon the other.  
“The pictures you uploaded might not be the nail in the coffin for Murkoff, but this footage will be. It's not a live feed. We can upload it if we want to, but that's going to depend on what we find in here. There's keeping them from sweeping the truth under the rug and then there's maliciousness. You're emotional about this because you have a stake in it. That's not wrong, but you can't always do that.”  
“We'll see.” Waylon set off ahead of Miles and beelined for the doors. Unlike Mt. Massive, the doors had been ripped open. The closer they got the easier it was to see the carnage. The facility's personnel had all been attacked. Some had been beaten to death, one had been pushed off the balcony above judging by the splatter marks. One looked as though they'd been gored by something... and this was only the entrance hall. Miles caught up and grimaced.  
  
“Shit..”  
“I knew he worked quickly but...” Waylon found the pride and joy he'd felt about listening to Murkoff's demise falter. This was a reminder. The mental image of the bodies hanging from the gym flashed before his eyes. What had they done to him? What pushed this? Was this even him?  
From the corridor behind the front desk there was the sound of footsteps. Someone walking down the hallway. Waylon stayed stock still, waiting for something to emerge, Miles, however, ducked into cover behind a desk in the offices either side. Behind the desk laid a body. It wasn't Murkoff personnel, it was one of the inmates. He was intertwined with another body which was Murkoff. The Variant had a pen sticking out of his neck and the personnel had a crushed windpipe, the way their lips had gone blue made his skin crawl. But what unsettled him further was the way the Variant appeared. He was pale, much like when they'd started becoming wendigos, but unlike the others there were... protrusions from his forehead. At first, he thought they were artificially done, but there was no fresh blood around them. They looked like the beginnings of horns. Miles scrambled away and looked towards Waylon. The other man was stood staring there, but he wasn't wearing that neutral expression he had been. His mouth was open and his eyes wide. Shit, he was trembling. Without giving it any more thought, Miles bolted over the desk and ran to him. Idiot was going to get himself killed. He'd thought Waylon had a good enough sense of self-preservation to run if he survived everything beforehand. What if it was Eddie?-

He barrelled into Waylon, but he didn't move, his hand coming up over his mouth instead. He looked like he was about to cry.  
Miles' eyes darted to where he was looking.

 

Before him, knelt was a Variant. His head was as low as it could get. A pair of large ram like horns had grown from his forehead, like the Variant in the other room.  
“The lord spoke of your arrival. He spoke true. His Bride is here. His Bride is here to save us all.” The Variant murmured erratically. His speech grew louder, almost chanting his words until he was screaming it. But he didn't sound terrified. He was jubilant. “His Bride is here!” Waylon had his hand grasped by the Variant as he leant up and pressed his forehead to it. “Praise to The Lord of the Mountain. Praise you.”  
Miles went to grab Waylon's hand away from him, but the programmer stopped him. “I need you to take us to him. Where is Eddie?”  
Above them the balcony became crowded with variants. Their appearances as mutilated as they were in Mt. Massive, but some had warped further. Many had horns, they all differed from one to the next. But there was no mistaking the imagery. They were becoming wendigos alright, but not the pale warped versions. The sort that looked more akin to the Jersey Devil. It was a bastardisation of Woodwoses. Creatures like Satyrs and Pans.  
“Eddie?” The Variant looked confused, as though Waylon was speaking another language.  
“Rübezahl. The Lord of the Mountains.”  
“We do not use that name.” The Variant quickly replied in a harsh whisper. “We cannot. It is blasphemous. It is rude. We are not allowed to. But, come, quickly. He has been awaiting you.”  
Miles didn't like the way they were looking at Waylon, much less so the way they looked at him. Mt Massive hadn't been The Groom's kingdom, it was the Walrider's, this was finally _his_. He was an intruder still as far as they were probably concerned.

The deeper they went into the facility, the more bodies they found. More Murkoff and some of the Variants too. It was just as horrifying as Mt Massive had been, but rather than fighting amongst themselves the Variants had banded together and attacked Murkoff exclusively. Eddie must have taken up the mantle as their leader. But how? They must have kept him isolated. But not enough. The dull ringing in the air. _The nano-machines are everywhere. In the air. They affected personnel, not just the Variants before._  
  
Soon the walls became adorned with skulls and fresh animal hides... sometimes they weren't always the skin of animals. The smell of the smoke grew thicker as they reached the courtyard in the centre of the building. The pyre that'd been erected was of impressive mass. It wasn't just trees and saplings that had been used for fuel, there were desks and chairs... Waylon was fairly sure that he saw the charred remains of an arm sticking out.

The chanting had grown impossibly loud, The Bride was here. But amongst it all was another voice. That terrible two toned noise. One smooth and charming, the other like rocks being slammed together, that was like thunder and death. Waylon couldn't hear what was being said over the noise of the Variants, but soon he spotted something moving behind the pyre. It was huge. The skull was unmistakeable. Nor was the thick mass of jet black hair, the eerie glow coming from the hollows where the eyes should have been. Its arms were almost as broad as Eddie's chest had been. The ground shook when it moved. And then he was stood in front of him. It was the nano-machine projection of The Groom. The skin appeared a faded grey black with a dull blue hint. A makeshift throne had been made crafted from where an impressive oak with the broadest trunk he'd seen had been cut down and carved. But it wasn't shaped like a minotaur any longer. Though the back legs still remained resembling that of a shire horse the front legs were... not quite so beautiful. By comparison to the thick mass that was his back legs, these were almost spindly by comparison. They looked more like arms. At the end of them were long finger like appendages, what was assumedly the thumb emerged from the wrist and acted as support. The tail had grown longer and thicker and it thrashed like an over-eager dog at the sight of Waylon. The 'fur' that covered it moved in the night breeze. For something that was supposed to be nano-machines, it looked a little too real for comfort's sake.

  
“ _My beautiful darling._ ” It hollered and lunged forward. Waylon shouted as he was scooped up into its arms. He felt like a gnat compared to the size of it. Yes, Eddie was a foot taller than him, but this was more than a couple of feet. He was as tall as the gap between the beast's clavicles to his front legs. What in the hell had happened? “ _I knew you wouldn't abandon me. Those filthy mongrels tried to tell me you were dead. I told them they were wrong._ ”  
Waylon struggled to push himself out of his grip. If he was stood before him right now he'd judge that perhaps he'd come up to his naval. How had The Groom gotten so big? More nano-machines.. there were enough here to allow such changes in him and the patients.  
“I'm glad to see you too- I wanted to come here sooner but I couldn't-- Where are you right now?” He was used to the nano-machines feeling cold against his skin. But it really felt like he was pressed against skin and fur. His mind was reeling. It even _smelt_ like Eddie.  
“ _Darling, don't be ridiculous, I'm right here_.” It laughed and dipped its head. The sharp snout rubbing against his hair. “ _Right where you should be. We've made this ours. Murkoff will no longer be a problem. This is our kingdom, isn't it beautiful?_ ”  
Waylon looked around and saw Miles grimacing, his own Walrider had manifested once more. The Variants around him had settled around the fire, watching the display between them. They even had things cooking against the pyre.  
“It is..” Waylon replied carefully. “I mean where is your body, Eddie?”  
“ _I'm your Groom, darling. I'm right here_.”  
“No, shit, what did you call him before... Alright, Rübezahl, where is _Eddie_?”  
The creature paused and settled back down on the throne. It kicked up a layer of dust and leaves, making the fire flicker and hiss in protest. Miles managed to catch a faceful of grit and hacked.  
“Where's Lisa whilst you're at it?” He shouted, stepping forward.  
“ _She is safe. They did not harm her. But I cannot unlock her prison. She has been cared for despite this. We can get food and water to her. The Catalyst is also safe. Our ascension was beautiful. I wish you could have seen it, darling_.” Despite the way his voice set Waylon's skin crawling he could appreciate that this was being 'tender'. His hand reached down to him and soothed his thumb against his cheek. It was almost as big as his face. “ _They believed that by introducing more nano-machines they would be able to control him. We overpowered them. We are safe. We are protected. We have the means to defeat them._ ”  
“I need to make sure he's safe too.” Waylon replied softly. He caught Rübezahl's thumb and nuzzled against it. It was tempting. The idea of staying here with him, but part of him wondered if that was really his own thought or an effect the nano-machines were having. “What did you do to these people?”  
“ _They wished for the power to escape. I merely gave it to them.”_ He paused to consider Waylon's request. “ _Do you not trust my word, darling?_ ”  
He tone grew sharp, and pulled his hand from his grip. It wasn't an especially strong movement, but it almost set Waylon off balance.  
“Miles, go and get Lisa out. We need to.. talk about this” He nodded to Miles. There were no sudden movements, nothing to betray the nerves that begun fraying in the back of his mind. If Eddie was capable of the carnage single-handedly in Mt. Massive, then what was this thing capable of? “Can you send someone to show him where she is?”  
Rübezahl let out a low growl, but gave into Waylon's request. A Variant shifted. One foot had warped, it was beginning to look digitigrade instead of flat. His toes had started melding into one and his foot longer than the other. Miles grimaced and helped the Variant to his feet. He staggered alongside Miles as they set off back into the facility, leaving Waylon and Rübezahl alone with the Variants. They watched Miles go in silence, perhaps Rübezahl was as aware of the conversation that needed to happen as much as he was.  
  
“I do trust you, but I need to see for my own sake.” Waylon soothed, his hand reaching up to scritch at the fur that started around his hips. “Am I being unreasonable?”  
“ _If the Catalyst leaves that pod everything I have created will cease to be. Murkoff will not have an army to face-_ ”  
“Do you know that for sure? I know you're scared-”  
“ _I do not get scared_.” The creature barked, one of its hands balling into a fist. He must have seen Waylon flinch back as his hand lowered and relaxed once more. There was a pause before he started speaking. “ _Not any more_.”  
“He's just as much a part of you as you are of him now. I need to make sure all of you is fine. I was so worried when I saw what was left of the cabin. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to protect the both of you at the time.”  
“ _The Groom must take care of his Bride. That is my task, not yours._ ” He looked out over the courtyard, his hand found its way back to gripping the arm of the 'throne'.  
“I put pictures of the aftermath on the net. I let them know who did it. And after all the footage we've gotten from here we'll never have to protect ourselves from Murkoff again. The radio, tv and internet's been going nuts since I posted them.”  
“ _That is not my concern. What of my people? What will become of them?The system will fail them as it has time and time again to allow such vulgar treatment.”_ Rübezahl didn't keep the growl from his tone, less directed at Waylon, more at the situation. His head tilted and rested on his knuckles as he settled back on the throne. It didn't do much to decrease the height difference.  
“These aren't _your_ people, you helped them, but you don't own them. If you say that are you really any better than Murkoff?”  
“ _If I do not take care of them then who will?_ ” The skull shifted. The dull sound of his teeth raking over one another was almost as unbearable as the sound of the static.  
“We'll do it properly. This is what Lisa's good at, she might not have the connections, but if she gets freed then people will reach out to her. She can reach out to people.”  
“ _They do not care for us-_ ”  
“When news got out that you'd been kidnapped by Murkoff again the news changed their tone. People who were invited to talk were in your favour. I even heard a shouting match between a woman and the news anchor over it. People do care, they just haven't known. There's always going to be people that want to help.”  
“ _You have such faith in humans.”_ The tone was quieter, softer.  
“I have faith because I've seen it. I've seen what happens when people come together to stand against injustices. It's not always pretty, but it's warming.... We'll do everything we can. Do you trust me enough?”

 

The creature clenched its fists and gave a low rumbling growl. He looked torn.  
“ _And what of me? Will I be under your protection too?_ ” Rübezahl reached out and hooked his index finger under Waylon's chin. If there was a face under that skull, Waylon could almost bring himself to believe that it'd be filled with sorrow. Rübezahl's creation was an accident. But he couldn't sentence him to disappear either. He was too much of a part of Eddie now. He always had been...  
“Yes.”  
“ _I am a cruel beast, darling, can you hold your word?_ ” The hooked finger shifted and Waylon found the hand clasped around his neck and shoulders, thumb threatening to press in.  
_He lashes out when he's scared. Hurt others and keep them away before they can hurt you. That's what this has always been about. Keeping people away from him._  
“Even on the worst days.” Waylon closed his eyes, holding his head up.

 

The ghost of a grip on his neck was released, the beast stood and threw its head back letting out an almost deafening cry. The Variants that were once watching in awe all began scattering back into the building. Waylon ducked, barely able to see anything through blazing pyre.  
“ _The Catalyst may have your body but your spirit will always be mine. Go. Find the fool. The Lord of the Mountain shall reign eternal._ ”

Before he could reply two Variants grabbed Waylon's hands and led him back into the facility. All he could do was dumbly look over his shoulder at the creature howling at the sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In starlit nights I saw you  
> So cruelly you kissed me  
> Your lips a magic world  
> Your sky all hung with jewels  
> The killing moon  
> Will come too soon
> 
> Fate  
> Up against your will  
> Through the thick and thin  
> He will wait until  
> You give yourself to him
> 
> Under blue moon I saw you  
> So soon you'll take me  
> Up in your arms  
> Too late to beg you or cancel it  
> Though I know it must be the killing time  
> Unwillingly mine"  
> The Killing Moon - Echo & The Bunnymen
> 
> Songs also used in this chapter - Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier.
> 
> Hooooo! This was so damn fun to write and seemed to escalate in a very different way to how I'd planned it. But there's still two chapters left and one very large annoyed Groom Beast - is he going to keep his word or not? We shall see.  
> Oh and here's a few doodles of Rubezahl's forms ([1](http://saltiestofqueers.tumblr.com/post/143549743180/sometimes-i-try-to-draw-nightmareish-beasties-and)) ([2](http://saltiestofqueers.tumblr.com/post/144828503175/say-hello-to-eddies-final-form))  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	29. Simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue and escape.  
> Waylon finds out exactly what happened to Eddie and the others at the facility.  
> There's finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Scars cover you in fine lines,  
> number you a timeline,  
> where was I when you stopped trying
> 
> You borrowing my tears an  
> harrowing my mirror,  
> covering our eyes so I can't see us crying. 
> 
> I'm not going home without you  
> I'll save your life  
> Not going home without you  
> I'll make this right,  
> and wait all night if that's what it takes. "

Thankfully this facility didn't hold as many insane doctors that were obsessed with patient mutilation. Either Eddie's horde had wiped all Murkoff personnel out or they were keeping their distance from the man that was surrounded by a black swarm of nano-machines. The Variant that led him was admittedly a lot slower than he expected. Perhaps this was the point? He didn't trust Rübezahl, Eddie was one thing but that monster was another entirely. The poor bastard had to keep stopping, sometimes crying out as his foot continued to warp. To transform everyone like this so dramatically, even if they wished for strength to defeat Murkoff, this was too far. What were they going to do afterwards? Things like this didn't _exist,_ pans, satyrs and woodwoses were things of myth. If Waylon got Eddie out of the Engine would it reverse the effects? Somehow he doubted it. There was surgery and the potential for better mental treatment, but to look like this? He was lining them up for a firing squad. It'd be the new outcry for the bigots to lash out at. The mentally ill were enough of a target as it was, they didn't need this added to it.  
The elevator to the basement level looked almost identical to Mt. Massive's, the same buttons that wouldn't work without a key. The Variant gently slipped the card key into the slot and leant on the arm rail. He looked exhausted.  
  
“This can't have been worth it.” Miles finally said.  
“You don't get to pass judgment on us.” The other spat, with an odd amount of clarity. “We became like this so we could stop theirs.”  
“Have you thought about the future? What you're going to do after? You think that monster's gonna give you a fairy tale ending where everything's better? What he is is a target. Murkoff may be gone after this, but something that powerful will only keep attracting challengers. It'll keep escalating.”  
“Coming from the unworthy journalist who stole Hope's Walrider.” The variant sneered, a laugh at the edge of his tone. “Oh, we know all about you. The Lord of the Mountain told us everything. You're only alive because you're useful.”  
“I'm so flattered. But I'm not brandishing mine like a weapon. Eddie's going to get people killed.” His brows dipped. The elevator felt like it was taking forever. Around them, the walls changed from the ornate wood panelling to rocks held back by nets and mesh. It smelt musty. The ringing was definitely louder down here and it made Miles' skin crawl. Mt. Massive had been a shit show, but this place was even worse. The Groom's delusions had tricked everyone.  
“How much blood do you have on _your_ hands? Going from facility to facility killing more like us. For someone preaching about the sanctity of lives you're quick to snuff out those that don't fit your ideals. There was hope for the others.”  
“You didn't see what I did-”  
“The nano-machines help us see all. We know what you saw, you broadcast it so carelessly. You wear it like a medal of honour. Brandishing your pain and thinking you're so noble for bearing the burden no one else wants to.” The sneer was interrupted by the Variant crying out as his foot warped once more. There was a sickening crack, bones grinding together and re-knitting themselves into hooves. He clutched the handrail and howled. His horns looked more like a Stag's, closer to the horns of Rübezahl's helmet. Miles didn't offer him his hand. “--When all you're doing is condemning the shunned further--”  
“They were killing people. It didn't matter if they were Murkoff or not, they were mad dogs-”  
“Did you even look for a cure? Have you tried to reverse the engine?” Miles' mouth pressed into a line and looked back to the elevator's button panel. “No. Of course not. Your Walrider drives you to destroy. You think of The Lord of the Mountain and Waylon as destructive but here you are, turning your back on your own. You're one of us, whether you want to admit it or not. And you should know better than anyone what the desire to survive will push people to do. To _become_.”

 

The elevator came to a stop finally and the doors opened. The air rushed in, whipping up his hair and jacket. The Variant now stood tall, the limp was gone and almost a foot taller than he was beforehand. He still looked malnourished and in dire need of a bath, but Miles doubted it'd take long for the nano-machines to fix that too. Silence was maintained as they strolled through the labs, as far as Miles was concerned this guy was talking out of the back of his head, but he didn't have the words to correct him. The nano-machines may have allowed an exchange of visuals, but it didn't show him the unsettling sense of dread he felt there. Nothing could compare to some of the horrendous creatures he'd seen in those facilities. As far as he could tell these people hadn't thought about the future, all they were focused on was being able to live. It was a basic instinct, but they were being fools.  
“Why can't you get Lisa out?” Miles asked carefully. “You've got all the keys don't you?”  
“It requires a thumbprint.” The Variant replied slowly, trying to hide the embarrassment that flashed across his features. “They learned from Mt. Massive. They learned from The Lord of The Mountain and his ilk.”  
“Call him Eddie. He isn't The Lord of the Mountain. He's delusional and you're not helping him.” Miles spat. “So what, you don't know whose thumb it needs because you butchered everyone, is that it?”  
“The Catalyst serves to power The Lord of the Mountain, his slumber grants us his protection.” The variant didn't seem bothered by Miles' outburst, “He was the first to be judged. He spoke to The Lord of the Mountain as though he were but a child.”  
Miles rolled his eyes. Sure, the guy probably deserved every ounce of pain he got, but for everything to have dissolved into this state so quickly made his head spin. He'd seen pictures of the gym. Those bodies hanging and mutilated. How many were up there? He couldn't even remember, but it'd barely been four days since everything had gone to hell. His skin crawled at the thought. The body count that man had only seemed to go up... well the Variant was right, it wasn't as though he could talk now.  
“If we had the means we could dust the reader for his print, but I doubt anyone's stashed pressed powder and a pore strip.” Miles clicked his tongue.  
The stench of death grew stronger. For a split second, he glanced to the side and thought he saw the Morphogenic Engine rigged up. Waylon was stood with his hands pressed against the glass, surrounded by two larger variants. They were built like Minotaurs, constantly checking around them for danger. No, it wasn't Waylon he was worried about here, it was Lisa. Eddie had reason to protect him, but with Lisa out of the way all complications for Waylon were gone and he could conveniently blame it on the Variants. Surrounding the pod was what looked like an inch thick of gore and human remains. The bullet proof glass that separated the engine from the 'scientists' was equally splattered. There wasn't a single nick in the glass, but why would there be? The nano-machines could get their way through even the tiniest of cracks. The carnage in the control room was probably far worse. He didn't have time for Waylon anyway.

Further down the corridor, he could hear a muffled thumping and shouting. The noise was dampened by panelling and sure enough, there was Lisa sat in a cell. Her hair wasn't pulled back by her usual bandanna and left to fall as it chose. It was matted and uncared for, far less glamorous than he was used to seeing her. She had a black eye but it only added to her visage of rage. She stopped shouting when she saw Miles and the Variant, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.  
“So you're not being held prisoner by them?” Lisa shot a glare at the Variant.  
“No, I'm here to help them get you out.” He paused and looked at the screen. It was an observation cell that didn't allow for any sort of privacy. Pure white walls, a meager cot in the corner, toilet and sink in the other. There was nothing in the way of entertainment, it was solitary confinement. His nose wrinkled as he tried to scratch at the glass. “There needs to be a thumbprint, but they ripped the guy apart. How're you holding up?”  
“I've been better.” Her brow raised slowly. “I'm just about able to get regular meals and water, but I don't know how much longer I can stand not being clean.”  
“Have any of you tried to just.. _break_ the lock off?” Miles glanced to the Variant before approaching the thumb print lock. It looked like a basic system, but if he knew Murkoff systems then it'd be anything but.  
“We were worried it would lock the access flap.” He gestured to the metal panel in the bottom right corner. It was rigged on a hinge but there were cylindrical bolts that could come down and bolt it in place. Miles clicked his tongue and crouched down to look at it.  
“Has anyone tried to break the glass?”  
“The Lord of the Mountain was concerned about injuring Lisa in the process.”  
“Alright, but have any other muscle heads tried it? Say one of the guys with Waylon in the other room?” They reminded him unnervingly of the twins but didn't look anything like them in the face. No, they probably just wanted to be strong as Eddie was.  
“We... We would have to get permission from his Lordship-”  
“Waylon didn't send me down here for a fucking social call-”  
“Boys.” Lisa interrupted. “What's your name?”  
“Irvin.” The Variant shifted and avoided Lisa's gaze, almost bashfully.  
“Alright, Irvin, if you need permission, then I want you to go get it.” She spoke softly, but firmly. “I need to get out of here, because without me, Murkoff is going to swoop in and spin this in their favour. I want to help all of you, but I can't do it from in here. Can you do that?”  
Irvin shifted uncomfortably once more and gave a small nod. “I cannot guarantee I can get counsel with him, but I will try. I will return with his answer.”

Miles half expected him to shuffle off at his own merry pace from how long it'd taken to get down to this level of the basement, but surprisingly the Variant took off in a bolt. His hooves clacked loudly on the tiles, but there was no stopping him. Perhaps Rübezahl's reign wasn't as.. tight as Miles had thought.  
  


Waylon hadn't been sure exactly what he was going to find in the pod, well more like what state Eddie would be in. The scars had faded dramatically since Rübezahl's appearance, but he remembered how quickly the wounds had bloomed on his face the minute he was shoved into the engine. He'd tried to keep him from this and here they were again... but at least this time he hadn't been the one to fix the machine. It hummed loudly, the static was a loud high pitched ringing rather than a dull faded noise. He blamed the acoustics of the converted cavern. It was less pristine and white as the first facility's Engine room had been. It must have been a quick job to build, judging by the stalactites that continuously dripped. Lights had been messily jammed into the ceiling of the cavern and hung limply from wires.  
Under the spotlight was the pod. The difference this time was it was nearly doubled in size. There was a harness to hold the unlucky inhabitant like the last time, but the straps had been torn in places. Hanging limply in the pod was something that looked like Eddie. Almost. His shoulders were broader than when he last saw them, if that was at all even possible, Waylon had always thought Eddie was built like an Olympian wrestler. As such the rest of him appeared larger, his chest wasn't quite as flat, the muscles straining against the skin. His biceps were fuller also. But what was more disconcerting were the horns growing from his head and the tail that curved up between his legs.  
Like the other Variants, breaking through his forehead were antlers that were identical, even to the slightly kinked prongs on his left, to Rübezahl's. Above his ears the curved ram-like horns that curved at his clavicles protruded. The tail was a dark charcoal grey and thick black hair grew down the middle. The tip was consumed by the hair. From his trapezius patches of fur grew thick down to his deltoid. It wasn't the strangest thing he'd seen, not given the confrontation with Rübezahl above ground, but he didn't think the engine could change people like this. Unless it was something he did to himself. Be more like Rübezahl to save himself. Waylon swallowed thickly and looked back to the Minotaur Variants behind him. They'd remained silent, not out of disinterest but perhaps sheer reverence. He was Rübezahl's bride, he was probably above them as far as they were concerned.  
“I need you to open the door to the control room, I'm going to see if I can get him out.” Waylon pointed to the thick glass door. It was just about visible through the gore. A Murkoff security worker had been torn in half just in front of it. He'd probably been struggling to be let in when it went down.  
The brunette minotaur stomped towards the door and kicked the body aside, clearing something of a path for Waylon. At least he was considerate. Though he'd trodden through all this barefoot in Mt. Massive... didn't make it feel any better though. The Variant gave a loud grunt and shunted at the door with his shoulder. It wobbled, the only thing keeping it in place was the lock. Though bolts would be more accurate a term. The other minotaur Variant joined the attempt, the two facing one another as they barged at the door, grunting and swearing as it creaked and groaned. The barrage continued until there was a loud cracking noise. The two paused and looked as the glass begun to separate from the bolts. With one final push there was a loud crash and the door swung open, one of the minotaur variants staggered in and straightened himself up. The stench was arguably worse because of the heat from the computers and servers still running. Waylon gagged and choked. He could feel his eyes watering from the putrid heat that radiated. He could have let it all air out, but he was strapped for time. Eddie needed to be let out sooner than later, who knew what would happen if he was left in there for much longer.  
Covering his mouth he stepped into the overwhelming haze, trying desperately to not smell as much as he could. If the doors were left open it might have helped to air it out. One of the minotaur variants obliged. One stood at the door to the Engine room and the other kept watch over the corridor behind them. All the while Waylon searched through the room to try and find the main control panel. It mirrored the one at Mt. Massive almost perfectly, it should have been right in the middle, but the keyboard was covered by a torso. Whatever else was once attached to the guy must have been strewn about the room and Waylon winced, trying to not think about it. _This is for Eddie. Pull it together._ Taking a breath he grabbed the body and flung it off the keyboard. It landed with a splatter in the pool of blood at his feet and he made a mental note to burn the clothes he was wearing when he got out of this. He didn't take a seat this time, only keeping himself hunched over the controls, the seat too sodden to be enticing. As he moved the mouse the screen blinked back on showing a document the programmer must have been working on at the time. It was a report about Eddie.  
  


20th Jan 2015 3pm  
_Who knew that the compulsive liar would actually be worth something. His results were initially a letdown, any compatibility with the nano-machines was below exceptional. Facial scarring was increased with this subject at an increased rate, although this only occurred after we used non-latex tubing. The subject's latex allergy caused excessive fluid in the trachea in the initial tests. Although given his history with his father and uncle we'd hoped that such force would make him easier to subdue._

 

_20_ _th_ _Jan 2015 7pm_

_Upon inspection, in Gluskin's lineage we found mentions of the family name as previous subjects in the experiments Wernicke conducted in Europe years ago, however, none of their results appeared as noteworthy either. What is it in your genetics that makes you so powerful? We were concerned that upon being concussed the Nano-machines would form and prove to give resistance in the form of 'Rübezahl' as he calls it now. Interestingly there appears to be a connection between the two. The Walrider project was originally supposed to tap into the Right Side of the brain which has no understanding of verbal communication. In Split brain tests we conducted it appeared that Walriders seemed to have a complete will of their own independent to the Catalyst. They are unable to speak due to this, and still Catalysts will not acknowledge that they have control over their Walriders. This bodes further testing. Perhaps using this technology we can find a way to re-connect Split Brain patients.  
But, I digress. What is so fascinating about this 'Rübezahl' is his independence to Gluskin. There are notable similarities, our in-house Psychologist has stated that he believes that 'Rübezahl' is a projection of what he wishes he could be. There is other superstitious talk, files found from the staff at Mt. Massive were convinced that something within the Mountain was woken up – purely the stuff of fairy tales and pseudo-science nonsense. What they were faced with was the power of the Walrider. We'll never have another subject like Billy Hope again._

 

_21_ _st_ _Jan 9am_

_There are concerns being raised amongst the staff. Many of the subjects are digging at their foreheads. Some were admitted with psoriasis-like symptoms that have only seemed to worsen since admittance. I say worsen, what would be more correct is concentrated areas are consistently building up. Psoriasis is quick to appear, but I haven't seen anything like this. Self-mutilation is common amongst patients and those with psoriasis, we'll have to up dosages._

 

21st Jan 5pm  
_I have never seen anything like this in my life. The Subject, Uri Brennan is showing signs of further change. What we believed was psoriasis is proving to be something else entirely. The concentrated patches made way for growths. Brennan was caught tearing at his skin, causing a ruckus when the orderly noticed something growing from his wounds. It was bone. Ridged and sharp. The higher ups had mentioned that the nano-machines were capable of transforming the patients into what were now being referred to as 'Wendigos' due to their cannibalistic and gaunt nature, but we haven't seen anything like this. Gluskin is in complete isolation and there is no way for his nano-machines to be able to filter out. We created that room like a vacuum._

 

The next file opened as a video recording. The scientist appeared to be in his late forties, well-groomed, clean-shaven and bespectacled. He was the image of a stereotype. He was sat in front of Lisa's cell on a chair.  
_“Recording, 21_ _st_ _of January 2015 10pm. Mrs. Park, what can you tell us about Eddie Gluskin? We of course, have his files whilst he was under our care, but you have been in regular contact with him for the past year and three months, how has he changed?”_  
“He's happier.” Lisa replied bluntly. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest as she laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  
“How have the nano-machines affected him since their connection. What happened?”  
“I don't know and I don't care. But you made a big mistake bringing him here.”  
The scientist chuckled patronisingly and shifted. “And why's that my dear?”  
“You think you have him trapped here, but what you've done is trap yourselves in here with him. You're all going to die.”  
“Is that a fact?”  
“Have you idiots not learned anything from Mt. Massive and all your other facilities? You're playin' with things you ain't got a single fuckin' clue about.” Lisa sat bolt upright, her snarl curling her upper lip. All composure had been lost, looked as though she'd had enough of putting on her respectability politics act for the white men. “Y'all're gonna wind up dead because you can't leave shit alone. You've been poking him for how many years? You're not gonna be able to control him.”  
“I think you'll find we're far better equipped this time.”  
“I've got nothing more to say to you, sheet-head. Y'all're gonna die and I'm gonna get the best seats in the house to see it.”  
“We'll see about that.”

The video file cut out and resumed over looking the engine room. The video showed Eddie being dragged in, unconscious, to the pod and loaded in. Waylon grimaced at the intrusive nature of the pipes and tubes. He remembered how much he screamed the first time.  
At the corner of the feed there appeared a man who looked strikingly like Jeremy Blair, Waylon felt his skin crawl. _It can't be..._

 

“ _Are they rioting?” The scientist asked whilst tapping on the keys, the engine began whirring and it booted up._  
“It's to be expected. They believe we're going to kill their 'Lord of the Mountain.'” The man in the suit scoffed. His tone was more acrid, sharper and more nasal in tone than Jeremy Blair. “We'll pump him full of these pre-programmed nano-machines and it'll be fine. With him, we'll have an entire army to sell. The CIA will pay nicely for these guys to be a new trained militia. Might even see them get used in Afghanistan, maybe against Palestine. We've got buyers, just need to get the product ready.”  
He almost sounded dreamy in the way he spoke, the scientist just shrugged and entered in the start-up code. The monitor next to him showed the machines being injected and tracking their progress around Eddie's body. But instead of his skin blooming into open wounds his eyes shot open. The whites of his eyes were black and the blue of his irises changed red. The scientists seemed to assume it was due to blood clots, until he started thrashing. The horns began their protrusion at an alarming rate.  
“What's happening?” The man in the black suit lent in to stare at the screen. Torn between horror and elation.  
“The nano-machines are clashing, at the moment their programming is trying to take.” The scientist didn't sound quite so convinced. The engine almost sounded as if it choked and a black fog started to fill the Engine room. Sure enough, Rübezahl appeared, howling and lashing out at the orderlies. “Shit, we need to pull the plug-”  
“Don't you dare.”  
The man in the suit looked on in joy as he watched the slaughter. Gradually the image of Rübezahl warped, hunching over further as his form changed from minotaur to centaur. It grew larger and larger, now no longer just a ghostly image. It appeared solid. It appeared to be flesh and bone. The group jolted as it slammed its palm against the glass.  
The man in the suit leant towards the desk and activated the microphone.  
“You're looking stunning there. And just how do you feel?”  
The creature didn't reply at first, its tail thrashing violently as it stared into the room. Behind the skull's empty eye sockets a red glow emanated. The scientist looked up at the way the hand pressed against the glass. He could make out all the lines in the skin, astounded at the way it compressed at the pressure.  
“It's... it's learned how to mimic flesh.”  
“You may have aided in my ascension, but you have made a mockery of me in the process.” The creature rumbled and slammed his fist against the glass. All the scientists jolted back, one even went to press the alarm. The man in the suit pulled out a pistol and shot him in the head before he could.  
“But we've made you whole. You wanted independence, here you have it.” The man smirked, still brandishing the pistol to the scientists around him. “But something like that comes with a price you know, we scratch your back.”  
“Mortal you have been nothing more than a flea. A parasite. You have mistaken sapping my of my blood for 'scratching'. You are a nuisance. Look at your men. Look how they have been laid waste.”  
“Just as I'd expected. I'm impressed. No, fuck it, I'm in god-damn awe of you. Just look at you.”  
“Your flattery makes me grow weary.”  
“I wanna come to a deal. We've both caused enough harm to one another, so let's talk this over like civilised folk, huh? Mano-e-mano. What is it you want?”  
“For you to stop talking.”  
The man in the suit laughed, “Alright, I can do that, but we've gotta come to an agreement first, you get me? Now, your relationship with Waylon Park, you wanna keep him safe right? He's your Bride to be. Gonna be the Bride of the Mountain.”  
“You sully his name by speaking it.” The creature leant in closer to the glass. Its breath fogged it temporarily. Suddenly it was driven home to the scientists that what they had was not what they'd bargained for. “Say his name again and I will pull your tongue from your skull.”  
“Alright- my apologies, your 'Bride', but we've got some trouble with the way his has been waggling along with his woman, Lisa. They've been making a lot of trouble for us. Now for us to let you go and leave them alone, you're gonna have to work for us.”  
“I will do no such thing.”  
“So what're you gonna do, run for the rest of your life? Keep livin' on the road. That's no life for a couple of honeymooners like yourselves. You wanna find your kingdom and settle down, now you may think that what we threw at you last time was a small army, but you should know that we've got more influence than you seem to think – go ahead, just ask Lisa, there's a reason nothing's been sticking since you started this little crusade. And I'll admit, you guys have been good, got some good ties yourselves. But we know exactly where they are and who they are. Lisa was the first and now we're gonna go after her dumb firm, her parents, her kids, your Bride's business friends what was his name? Julian? And we're gonna drag 'em through the streets and put their heads on pikes to show them you don't fuck with Murkoff. You getting this pumpkin? We may not be able to kill you, but we can make you wish that you were dead.”  
“Empty threats.”  
“Yeah? Alright, how about we get Lisa in here? Someone bring me that mouthy bitch.” One of the orderlies disappeared and returned not long after with Lisa. Her hands were tied up and forced behind her back. She paused for a moment to take in the view of R _ü_ _bezahl against the glass. If she could, she'd have covered her mouth but was left just staring at him. “Now, Lisa's been a thorn in our side even worse than your darling Bride from day one. She's kicked up alotta problems for us and frankly she's been pissing us off, so, this is going to be more of a benefit to us. But sure if you wanna flex your negotiation skills let's see how well they hold up-” He grunted as he swung his fist into Lisa's face, she cried out and was knocked to the floor. “Because, I gotta tell you, I've been waiting to do this to her for so god-damn long. But sure, you keep acting like you've got any sway in this.”_  
_Rübezahl jolted closer to the glass, hands splayed against it. There was a low grumble as the jaw creaked and opened to let him howl at the men._ __  
“Don't you give into this blue-eyed devil, Eddie--” Lisa coughed, “Don't you listen. You know what you've gotta do. You've gotta kill them and everyone here.”  
“Ooooh, she's got a badass streak in her doesn't she? Man, this is just going to make this-”  
“Enough.” The creature thumped on the glass again. This time the pane almost seemed to wobble in its fixture. “Your point is made.”  
The man in the suit wiped his face and laughed to himself. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip and cocked his head to R _ü_ _bezahl._  
“You ready to talk at the table with the real men, eh Ruby?” There was a grunt. “Alright, get her back to her cell, if he makes another fuss put that cell on lock down. I don't want her getting anything. You understand me? No food, no water, she's not getting shit.”  
R _ü_ _bezahl watched as Lisa was lead away. Waited until she was back in her cell. He straightened his back and clenched his fists. What was once an image of concern in his body language was that of seething. His chest pushed out and his shoulders squared._  
“What was it that you called me?”  
“Ruby. Oh, sorry R _ü_ _bezahl.”_

_The camera feed crackled. Behind the scientists, a hoard of Variants burst through, front lined by the minotaur variants. One by one the scientists were torn to pieces leaving only the man in the suit. The bullets were useless, deflected by the nano-machines. He was forced into the Engine room, picked up by R_ _ü_ _bezahl. The creature squeezed until the man in the suit popped like a water balloon.  
“Do not call me by that name.”_

 

The feed fizzled out and Waylon was left staring at the screen. There was a tremor which he could only assume came from above ground. He grimaced, what in the hell was going on up there and who in the fuck was that guy? Was he the Murkoff big wig? The one pulling the strings that Julian had mentioned? Quickly Waylon set the files to sent to his email and forward it to Julian. The news needed to get out too. As much context as possible needed to be given on this hellhole. Whilst that was uploading Waylon set the pod to open. It groaned and unceremoniously dumped Eddie's body onto the floor. Any wires and tubes that were in him tore themselves out and Waylon winced at the sight. He was inhumanly large now.  
“Eddie. Eddie, can you hear me? Eddie, please wake up. We need to go.” Waylon grimaced. He was as warm to the touch as ever, but he was clammy. How long had he been stuck in that pod?  
“Darling...?” His hands flattened on the ground and was interrupted by a guttural retching. They must not have been as delicate with the tubing this time... well if they were at all. “Darling, _you fool_. You should _have left me_ in there longer.”  
“What? No- what's going on?” Waylon put his hands up and felt his scalp prickle. His tone kept shifting, one moment he was soft spoken as always, the next he had the raw rasp of Rübezahl.  
“ _It's a slaughter._ ” Eddie groaned and heaved himself up. The two Minotaur Variants rushed to Eddie's side to help him to his feet. He dwarfed them by comparison, though they were probably the size Eddie used to be. They took the weight easily, though, despite Eddie slumping under his new weight. “We've got to evacuate- _without the Engine on I don't have the strength to summon my projection._ ”  
“Lisa's still trapped.”  
“Shit.” Eddie clutched his head and winced. He gritted his teeth, they looked sharper, more menacing. Predator's teeth. Made for tearing flesh mercilessly. Waylon had thought being out of the machine would slow down the transitions, but sure enough, his hands became the same charcoal grey as his tail; the pigmentation changed gradually until it stopped just half way up his forearms. His fingers were adorned with black markings, simple patterns that looped around. Was Rübezahl trying to take over? Waylon couldn't tell.  
He jumped when Eddie wrestled himself free from the Minotaurs' grip and ripped a pair of boxers off one of the bodies and tried to slip into them. He was stretching the fabric but at least he was covered somewhat. There was no way in hell that he'd be able to fit into any of the other tatters left lying around. There wasn't enough time to make himself something new either.  
“ _Gather the people, help them escape through the tunnels. They have the means to fight, but-_ we have to go.” He clasped the brunette Minotaur's shoulder giving a firm nod. “ _If they shoot first, destroy them_. Come on, Waylon.”  
Gently Eddie took Waylon's hand, he gave it a light squeeze before they set off back down the corridor. Lisa's holding cell was a stone's throw away thankfully, but from the way Eddie was rushing Murkoff had sent more militia to combat the riots. The sound of gunshots and explosions was dulled by how far underground they were, but the rumbles and tremors were hard to ignore. Waylon dreaded to think what it was going to be like above ground. Despite the difference in size, Eddie was keeping his speed slow enough for Waylon to keep up. It must have felt more like a brisk jog for him, but Waylon's legs were going as fast as they could carry him. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Minotaurs running off in the opposite direction.  
Miles saw them first and almost plastered himself against the wall. His face blanched at the sight of Eddie, he may have been taller than Waylon but he was still shorter than Eddie, it must have felt like he was being faced down by Chris Walker again.  
Eddie's grip on Waylon's hand dropped and swung his fist at the glass. Unlike all the other attempts it left a dent. The glass fractured into a spider's web pattern and Lisa backed up onto the bed. Despite being shocked by Eddie's appearance, she nodded and Eddie repeatedly struck it over and over again until his hand broke through to the other side. Once the hole was in place he scrambled to pull more chunks out of the panelling. Soon the hole was big enough for Lisa to climb through with Eddie's help.  
“What's going on up there? There was a crash-” Lisa clutched her head and winced, it'd been a while since she'd had food run down to her cell.  
“Militia.” Eddie replied flatly. “ _I am in no state to destroy them like this._ ”  
“Eddie?”  
“ _There is no time to explain._ He's right, we have to leave. Can you walk?”  
“Probably not fast enough.”  
Eddie didn't give her the chance to protest before scooping her up in one of his arms and did the same to Waylon in the other. “You're lucky you're both so small.” He smirked. “Miles, _I'd offer you to climb on my back but I lack the strength here_.”  
Miles put his hands up and shook his head. “Man, you couldn't even pay me to climb on your back right now.”  
Waylon shot Miles a glare over Eddie's shoulder before he took off down the hall.

 

There was another loud crash, dust and debris crumbled down from the ceiling above, making Eddie have to dramatically dodge it. His grip was just bordering on crushing, forcing Lisa and Waylon into his side. The alarm that had been suspiciously silent finally began blaring. The noise echoing off the narrow passages was shrill and disorientating. Mt. Massive's riots had nothing on this. Though none other than Eddie had been there and lived through those initial moments. Another tremor. Just ahead of them Miles' Walrider materialised, it was holding up a section of the ceiling threatening to collapse. Miles winced. He may not have been completely connected to his Walrider but it was heavier than he anticipated. Ahead of them was a hoard of Variants. Some were crying, others shouting and some were being dragged along, wanting to go back and fight the militia rather than run. Eddie winced. He wished he could let them. But the assault on the cabin had been far more barbaric than anything they'd thrown at Mt. Massive. Murkoff had learned. They realised what the nano-machines were capable of and adjusted their firepower accordingly. He hadn't had time to prepare them or himself. He wanted to shout at Waylon, but there was no way he could have known. As far as he'd seen he'd been trapped in the pod, he'd wanted to help.  
The group just about made it through the gap before the Walrider disappeared from over-exertion. The crash knocked Miles from his feet and Eddie almost dropped Lisa and Waylon. So much for a quick escape. There were too many people trying to get out through the tunnels.

 

“Where does this lead?” Waylon slipped out of Eddie's grip and rushed to help Miles back up. “There weren't any exit tunnels at Mt. Massive, not that I knew of at least.”  
“ _It takes us through the mountain._ ” With Waylon out of his grip he could carry Lisa with a little more consideration. “There's a cabin, not far from here, it comes out of the basement there. It was a watch point for the security. Means to keep hikers and travellers away from the facility.”  
“I meant to ask.” Waylon dusted himself off and glanced back to Lisa. “Your parents cabin... there's a basement. They never told us it existed.”  
Lisa's expression dipped and sighed. “They were given it as a gift from friends back in the seventies. Murkoff was still trying to put together Mt. Massive at that point. It's possible the cabin was meant to be a watch post like the one we're headed to now is.”  
“Did they know about it?”  
“Not at first. I discovered it a couple of summers ago, you remember when they came up to stay with us?”  
“Why didn't you say anything?”  
“Some of the stuff I found in there made my skin crawl. We just got rid of it all. Dad talked about refurbishing it as a games room, but never got round to it. Guess we just forgot about it, you know?”  
If they weren't outrunning a militia force, Waylon might have said something along the lines of 'you never tell me anything', but that was a conversation for later. But it only led him to wonder exactly how much Lisa had been keeping from him, not just now but over the years. A lot of the time she'd seen him as delicate, someone to protect and keep out of the line of fire. Now look at him. Well, she could barely stand to these days. Perhaps she preferred him quieter and less bitter.  
  


Gradually Eddie and the group drifted further ahead in the flock of Variants making their ways through the tunnels, the variants pleading with their leader to help them through. Some tunnels had dead ends, others lead to cabins that were still too close to the burning facility. The walls thankfully had maps, rather than relying on Eddie's nano-machines to scope out the area.  
What bothered Miles was how Rübezahl had stated that the changes he made would all disappear if Eddie was taken from the pod. Perhaps that wasn't true at all, the beast was a liar and manipulative at worst. He debated if they'd left Eddie in the pod for longer then Rübezahl would have reversed the changes... He doubted if the beast even had any concept of what he was doing. As far as he was probably concerned he was helping them to ascend too. At some point into the journey Eddie, or Rübezahl, it was so hard to tell who was in control now, ordered a group of Variants to hang back and wait until everyone had passed through to block up the way behind them. It was a risky process, there was every chance that they'd collapse the tunnels around them, but Lisa pointed out that they needed to stop the militia from being able to follow them. It'd be easy to bottle-neck the Variants in the small tunnels. Out of the group only a few branched off, the further down the tunnels they got and the more cabin offshoots that were found lead to some insisting on splitting up rather than following 'the herd'. Rübezahl didn't seem all that pleased at the prospect, but allowed them to go. Miles wondered exactly how old or recent these tunnels were, perhaps they'd been used in the civil war era and had been capitalised on by Murkoff. But all he knew was he'd been stuck underground for longer than he was comfortable with. Especially given the footprints he'd spotted coming down from one of the other cabin hatches not far back...

 

They'd been walking for what felt like hours before they reached the flight of stairs. Eddie set Lisa down and told the Variants to wait in the tunnels. Eddie, Lisa, Waylon and Miles then made their way above ground.  
The cabin was barren and coated in dust. The facility hadn't been up and running long enough for Murkoff to full equip it with all the necessities, let alone personnel. What did catch them off guard, however was the spotlight that switched on as soon as they stepped outside the cabin. Eddie immediately stood in front of the others, his arm braced over his eyes to avoid the glare. He couldn't make out much only silhouettes of people and large cars, 4x4's and vans.  
“Whoa, hold guys!” A voice ran through the air, “Turn down the lights, it's them!”  
Waylon's blood ran cold. Them? They didn't sound like they were about to open fire, but how did they know that they were them?  
The lights dimmed, what he'd thought was a spotlight was in actual fact car headlights that had been turned up to full beam. Now clearly able to see there were men dressed in military gear, some in hunting gear and.. were those paramedics? He rubbed his eyes and blinked. None of them had weapons.  
“Yo, someone grab him some pants, he's gonna catch the death of cold out here.” The people began shuffling around and opening the vans. “How many have you got with you?”  
“Uhm.. we kinda didn't get to count?” Miles shifted ahead of Eddie and blinked the bright spots from his vision. “But there's a lot of us. Who are you?”  
“Mike Himlik, ex Staff Sergeant.” The man stepped forward and offered Miles his hand. “I was part of the group that Chris Walker was deployed with in Afghanistan. Been keeping up with this case since the footage got out. It was a fucking disgrace what they did to that soldier. Been getting the vets and their families together to help out how we can. Park's friend from Viral Leaks got in touch with us and had us posted at these stations.”  
Miles made a small choked noise and covered his mouth. “Fuck- fuck- I'm so sorry-”  
“You did what you had to survive. Chris would have understood that.” He clapped Miles on the shoulder, his mouth pressed into a line. “Where the fuck are Gluskin's clothes at?”

 

The cabin's land was soon littered with tents and a group had started making food. Admittedly when the Variants began pouring out of the cabin it unsettled many of the volunteers. Thankfully most of them got on with it and greeted them with blankets and fresh clothes. Eddie and the others were settled inside the cabin talking to Himlik, filling them in on the details on what had happened and in turn Himlik got them briefed on what had been happening since the news of Lisa and Eddie's disappearance had gotten out. As much as Murkoff had tried to grease the palms of judges and the juries involved in the cases the evidence was stacked too high for it to be swept under the rug any longer. Whilst this was going on Waylon created a live feed of the camp, telling people about what had happened and where to find the new footage of the latest facility.  
' _It's been a long road. And it's still going to be tough, but we have to keep pushing on. These people need our help and our acceptance otherwise companies like Murkoff will swoop in and think they can get away with this sort of thing again. I know I'm not going to stand for it, because when we let this happen to the vulnerable it allows them to start coming for the rest of us. Are you going to let them?_ '

 

It wasn't too long before a local news team showed up at the camp. Most of the Variants stayed clear and if they were asked to be in the broadcast were nervous and tried to avoid it. Lisa stepped up into the limelight, despite there being plenty of questions for all of them.  
“But don't you think people could see you all as a threat?” The woman asked, seemingly innocently.  
“ _We don't have any interest in declaring war. We want to be treated with dignity and left in peace_.” Rübezahl's response was steely. “ _All the things that Murkoff has denied us time and time again. The footage of what they were doing is out there. We have security tape footage from inside the facility. Patients were beaten and tortured. Sometimes there was no meaning to it at all, a great deal of the orderlies just enjoyed the power trip._ ”  
“But you are all quite shocki-”  
“ _What is shocking is this provocation. No, we no longer look like everyone else. This was caused by Murkoff. Would you say that anyone who looks different to you is 'shocking'?_ ” Rübezahl boomed, his arms folded and tail thrashing.  
“You're twisting my words- That wasn't what I meant”  
“ _Then choose your words more carefully. The last thing these people need is to be but back into another facility where people will poke at them. They need help, not more tests._ ”  
“Do you count yourself amongst them in needing help?”  
“ _I do, but the difference is that my loved ones had the means to come and save me. Most of these people's families either gave up on them years ago, have none or were helpless as Murkoff took them away._ ”  
“Mrs. Park, what do you think this means for the Murkoff case?”  
“I can't talk about the case too much, as you may understand.” Lisa sighed.  
“I'd hope that it's the nail in the coffin.” Miles interjected. “This goes beyond what they did to Waylon and Eddie, this now could be classed as crimes against humanity for the sheer level of trauma and probably irreparable damage done to these people. Murkoff picked up experiments that were being done by the Nazis. If that doesn't tell you what sort of people they are, I don't know what to tell you.”  
“And who are you?”  
“Miles Upshur, Investigative journalist, ex military journalist and survivor of the Mt. Massive incident.”

 

“Waylon, do you believe that what you did to rescue Gluskin was dangerous given his history?”  
“When we first met, I would have said yes. But I've spent almost over a year with him. It probably would be. But after everything that happened to us at Mt. Massive this was easier. And it was definitely worth it. I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.”  
“We asked him earlier if he was concerned that people would see him and the other survivors as a threat?”  
“The only people who should see them as a threat are Murkoff. Come on, these people were experimented on and mistreated, they're walking evidence of how we treat the mentally ill in this country. We've failed them.”  
“So you think this is a political debate, not just a legal issue?”  
“Of course it's political. This is a symptom of a complex social issue where we've been taught to turn a blind eye because it's 'not our problem'. And the Government doesn't want us to think it's a problem. The Government's been allowing companies like Murkoff to do this stuff for years, if it wasn't a political issue then why have I had to spend the past year in hiding? Because it's now illegal to say that companies have been violating human rights because it gets in the way of business. Look at Edward Snowden, he's now had to seek refuge in another country for doing the same but on a bigger scale. It doesn't seem to matter what gets revealed, no matter how insidious it is, but god forbid he talk about it.”  
“You obviously feel very strongly about this.”  
“I wouldn't have emailed Miles about what was going on at Mt. Massive if I didn't. It got me incarcerated for weeks being treated like dirt for standing up for these people's rights. They never consented to it, most of them were strong armed into it.”  
“We've run out of time, but thank you, this is indeed food for thought. After the break, we return to the court-house where the Murkoff vs Park case is taking place.”

 

“They're never going to leave us alone... you know that right..?” Waylon approached Eddie slowly by the campfire. He settled on the bench next to him and huddled up to his side. He was so warm. Words couldn't begin to express how much relief and comfort it brought him to have Eddie back by his side. To know that he was.. safe. He may never have been the same ever again, but he was here with him. That was all that mattered.  
“In time they will forget us. We will trend as news for another year perhaps before the media machine decides to churn out a new 'scandal' to get people to focus on.” Eddie gave a weary sigh, slinging his arm around Waylon to pull him closer. Waylon nuzzled against his chest and took in his musk. With the changes he was half expecting him to smell different, over romanticising the idea that he'd smell like the forest and mountains. He smelt as he always did. Although, he'd just need to tailor his clothes differently to fit him better. He smirked, Eddie would probably love the challenge.  
“When did you become such a cynic? You've been listening to Miles too much.”  
“Much as we don't always see eye to eye, he knows how the media operates better than myself. The worst case scenario will be paparazzi for gossip magazines. Although, I think this may be a little too complex for them to want to touch....” He paused and looked down at Waylon. His irises were no longer red like Miles'. Still a little bloodshot but the blue was returning slowly. “I'm thankful for you coming to my aid. But after this, with the way I am now, you promised us you'd stay by our side forever, but can you really say that now? With how I look?”  
“You're still you. There's just more of him in there with you too.” Waylon shrugged. His arm just about reached around Eddie's waist, so he settled to grip at the shirt they'd found for him. “We can work with it.”  
“You're too good to me...”  
“So are you. We'll be good to each other together.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can't believe this skin is one we've always been with  
> for as long as we recall it for  
> everything that it's been through  
> Know that I forgive you  
> Know that I will hold you when 
> 
> the sky is falling  
> I'm not going home without you  
> I'll save your life  
> Not going home without you  
> I'll make this right  
> and wait all night if that's what it takes. 
> 
> And my reflection shows we're clinging to dear life  
> but I won't let us go we'll make it through all right."  
> Scars - Anna Nalick
> 
>   
> This has been an emotional rollercoaster ride from start to finish, but I'm not sorry for monstrous boyfriends.  
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


	30. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited finale. What does the future hold for the group?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh today I'm just a drop of water  
> And I'm running down a mountainside  
> Come tomorrow I'll be in the ocean  
> I'll be rising with the morning tide
> 
> There's a ghost upon the moor tonight  
> Now it's in our house  
> When you walked into the room just then  
> It's like the sun came out"

The trend left almost as soon as it came. The social movement that had jettisoned them into the spotlight faded, it seemed as far as the public was concerned, they'd condemned the actions of Murkoff and that was enough. Which, partially, was true. The case had been dragged out, what should have been an easy open and close dissolved into multiple counter suits and buried within tar-like layers of bureaucracy. One leader couldn't be touched because of ties with another, another wasn't available to testify because of Rübezahl's rage and was thrown under the bus as a 'rogue' manager. Loophole after loophole was thrown, all for the sake of stacking up costs.

It was a foul move, one that Lisa knew was going to eventually happen. After all, there wasn't a case if there was no money to fund it. The veterans had been kind and offered to try and pitch in, even if they hadn't the financial stability to commit to such a cause. Lisa politely declined.

It was a stalemate. A carefully planned stalemate. So the court dates kept getting pushed back further and further. It was either settle on the deal that Murkoff had offered, or keep dragging it out. Financially speaking, it was impossible to keep working for nothing. Likewise, Miles couldn't keep just going out and destroying facilities that Murkoff put up, especially as the suits for trespassing kept stacking up against him.  
She leant back on her office chair and groaned. In front of her was a completed email she was about to send to her parents. Next to the screen was her phone. Call them, or send them an email? The latter would save her dignity, but it would also be cold. Calling them would be more personal, but would lead to a barrage of questions she wasn't ready for. They'd try to do everything they possibly could for her. They'd already done enough taking care of the kids.  
“Shit.” She hissed, sending the email to her drafts.

 

There was a ping. At first, she thought it came from her phone, and then there was an unfamiliar sender in her inbox. It was about an application she'd made a year or two back. The Murkoff case had put her into the limelight, sure, but her experience wasn't all that. And then another. And another. The notifications kept pinging as Lisa watched her screen with wide-eyed shock. Law firm after law firm asking if she'd be willing to attend an interview. Initially, they weren't that prestigious- no, she was being big headed- until she saw the names of the firms appearing as part of the sender's details.

Lisa wasn't the sort who believed in the abilities of a higher power, that things would work out if you waited for them to; yet here she was. After everything she'd done for Eddie and Waylon she had options again. But she'd need a prestigious one that would pay well just to be able to maintain this battle. Something she would make adamantly clear. The case was slow but expensive. If they were able to meet her demands then she'd fight tooth and nail for them.

The response was sent en masse. She smirked as she typed it, she could only imagine how much each firm would squirm when they saw just how sought after she was. As easy as it would have been to get off on the power trip, she remained polite, honest and above all professional. Her terms were clear. However only a handful of the firms bothered to reply, some thanked her for her prompt response and told her they'd discuss the terms and get back to her. Immediately she knew those would be the ones out of the run. Perhaps she'd been too brash. Her teeth raked over her lips, the panic starting to set in.

Her phone rang. It made her jolt as she watched the screen light up. The vibrations sending it across the table millimetre by millimetre. Unknown number? Her eyes narrowed as she reached for it.  
“Hello? Lisa Park.”  
“Hello Mrs. Park. My name is Jessica Pearson, I'm managing partner for the firm Pearson Specter and Litt. We would like to request you to be an acting consultant for a case we've been approached with. With your current involvement in the people vs Murkoff, we believe it'll be right up your street. How quickly can you find accommodations and get to New York?”  
Her mouth grew dry. “I can be there tomorrow.”  
“Good. We look forward to working with you.”

 

 

It was something of an end of an era. Selling the house had been... _eventful_. Some wouldn't touch it because of who had lived there and others wanted to turn it into a monument for Boulder. Suffice to say, it'd taken some effort but a serious buyer had come along and given them a decent enough sum to purchase it. Waylon had thought about taking Eddie to Berkley, to be a lecturer and let him enjoy some sunlight for once in his life. Eddie hadn't seemed particularly impressed. No matter how much they tried to find a compromise, Eddie always found himself looking to the mountains once again. But there was more to it than Waylon's starry-eyed optimism.

“Darling, you know I can't integrate like you can.” His tone was sombre as he clutched Waylon's hand tightly. “But I also can't ask you to give up your dream. If.. If I didn't look like this, I'd drop everything for you. I would go wherever you wanted to, just so I could be by your side. But I do. I can't.. I can't go out like this. I can't expect you to stand by my side when it's so-- _visible_.”  
The look in his eyes made his heart break.  
They'd worked so hard to just be happy. Murkoff was leaving them alone, they could start over. But the more Eddie spoke, the more Waylon got a nagging feeling that he was going to suggest going their separate ways. That by leaving him would be some great kindness. Eddie's appearance was a testament to everything he'd been through. Whereas, Waylon could hide in plain sight. He could pretend that he was like everyone else, but the horns, the eyes and the tail... it was so unapologetically present that there was no room for debate. Eddie had been prodded by society enough for several lifetimes over, did he really need it somewhere else?

“You're not going anywhere without me either.” Waylon spoke firmly, squeezing the other's hand. “Don't you talk about what's unkind on me, you couldn't be if you tried. I can't be unkind to you... But I think I know how we can both get what we want.”

 

Behind the house was a lake. Beyond the lake was a national forest and canyons. It went on for miles. It'd been a risky move, but with help from his parents, he'd managed to find a house on the outskirts of Larch, Moraga, California. It wasn't too much of a drive for him to get to Berkley in the mornings, he got to take a route through the forest at least so it was scenic. At first Eddie had been nervous about it, wondered if the people would talk. They always would. But Waylon made no secret of who they were. If a student or a neighbour asked in hushed whispers about their identities, Waylon would be blunt. If anything he used it to fuel his lectures. Off the books, he began debates about the use of 'ethical hacking'. Soon, his students began to ask if they'd ever meet his boyfriend.

It was about this time that rumours began emerging of a new type of cryptid had been seen in the Redwood Regional Park. There were reports of a giant creature that would tackle deer head on. Some would even spin it as if you strayed into the woods at night then you'd be caught and eaten, although no such disappearances had happened. And probably wouldn't, Eddie was far more likely to run away the minute anyone saw him, but they didn't have to know that.  
Waylon couldn't help but smirk whenever he heard someone mention it. He could have always stirred the pot and told them more stories about what he'd heard about this cryptid, the things it could do. Instead, he settled for a picture of Eddie in the forest from a weekend hike on his desk. It'd been taken far away enough that his features were blocked by the sunset behind him, only allowing for a glowing silhouette of him. He'd adored it the minute he'd taken it. His Lord of the Mountain had found a new place to call his kingdom. Admittedly several of his work colleagues that worked in the psychology department had requested to meet with Eddie, each time he politely declined. Eddie had had enough of people poking at him to last a lifetime. What he needed was time to settle down, feel comfortable in his own skin and this new place before he would consider such things.

 

 

With Lisa's move to New York, Miles had followed. Chris Walker's family had also launched a lawsuit against Murkoff for the treatment of their son. It was the first time that he'd appeared in court since the first case had been filed. He unsettled many, but that was perhaps because of his ferocious piercing gaze when he spoke of what Chris' intentions had been. _Make no mistake, they made him into a machine for war. But Chris was still Chris. He tried to do his duty even when he wasn't in his right mind. He tried to stop that 'infection' as he called it from getting out. That's why he came after me, that's why he went after everyone. He knew what Murkoff was doing was wrong and it was his duty to protect the American people from such danger._

However, the offers for work opportunities weren't to be seen like they had been with Lisa. But Miles didn't care. Even if she'd found a new job, he worked as her informant. Her information broker. She needed dirt he'd find it. He was her attack dog and like her, he wouldn't relent until Murkoff was stopped.

When he wasn't working for Lisa, he'd meet with the veterans, help with whatever cause they presented him with. Even if they didn't need the same kind of firepower that they'd needed against the Murkoff Militia, there was always room for someone that could conjure up a monster that'd make their opponents shit themselves. They were encouraged to write, to keep blogs, journals, anything that kept track of the injustices they fought against, the cases they found, be it social or political. Although as time went on the more they sound the two became synonymous.

He also couldn't help the slight bitterness that he harboured against Waylon. It was a sort of resentment that would always be there. Even when Waylon and Lisa finally filed for their divorce, he wanted to think of Waylon as an idiot for letting her go. But when they went to visit them he couldn't bring himself to. They both looked just so... _happy_. There was no fast paced up until the early hours pulling all-nighters just to finish the case. It was a far slower-paced way of life. Instead, their evenings would be spent sat on the back porch, watching the sunset reflect on the lake. They'd be draped together, just about able to fit next to each other as the fireflies danced around the glowing water like an ethereal display. Shitting on their happiness didn't make him any less torn. Even if their time spent at the lake house felt awkward at first, it brought him and Lisa closer.

 

“Why the sudden decision to cut the knot?” Miles hummed as he buckled in. “You got tired of being Lisa Park?”  
“Eddie asked me, actually.” She hummed, her chin resting on her palm as she looked out the window. As pretty as it was, it wasn't for her. Such a slow pace would only allow for stagnation and a gradual decline into a self-indulgent lull. But, it suited the two of them. Stress didn't help either of them, this allowed them to go at their own pace. “We all knew it was coming anyway. Well, maybe Waylon didn't think it ever would.”  
“You sorry about it?” Miles started the engine and pulled out, watching the two wave them off. He raised his hand on the wheel in return and set off towards the airport.  
“No. It's like a weight's being lifted from the shoulders. Like I'm no longer obliged to worry about him. If I choose to worry about him now it's on me, rather than being bound to the vows on an old forgotten bit of paper. I'm free. And what I do with my freedom is up to me.”  
“So, Miss Free, you got any fancy plans?”  
“Get my parents closer to us, make it easier to see Benji and Max... Might spend a bit more time with a not so respectable bachelor...”  
“Don't give a man false hope.” He smirked.  
“Hey if false hope is on the cards for Miss Free then that's what Miss Free is gonna do because she is going to just _roll_ with it.” Lisa laughed and relaxed back into the seat. If only Miles' jeep was as spacious and clean as the rental was.  
“You're a cruel mistress.”  
“I'll hold you to that name.”

 

 

“That was... nice.” Waylon hummed as he watched the car leave. He'd been nervous about inviting them to stay, after all, Lisa had been so busy lately and he wasn't exactly Miles' favourite person. Even if he'd complained about nature being too present, he'd relaxed into it eventually.  
Eddie gave a small hum and nuzzled into the back of Waylon's head. Before he'd had to lean down a little to reach him, now he was practically bending over himself. Waylon enjoyed the changes at least. And as long as he accepted him then... well what did it matter, really?  
“You settle on the porch, darling, I'm going to get another bottle.”  
“Well, it _is_ only Saturday.” He could sleep off the hangover.

The porch bench had been hand carved across the span of their second week at the house. The first bench they had, had creaked a little too loudly the first time Eddie had decided to perch on it. Then they discovered that it had been just a little too snug for the both of them not long before it collapsed. To be fair, it'd been something they'd salvaged from the cabin. Not a lot was really in the best of shape, especially after it was reduced to a husk by the Militia attack. Waylon laughed to himself. It felt like such a long time ago that that had happened. It'd probably barely been a year, really. But.. here they were. After everything.

The screen door creaked as Eddie manoeuvred his way out with two glasses and a bottle of red. Really he would have associated red with the winter and have a crisp rose for the beginning of the summer, but Eddie wasn't about sticking to the traditional. Not really. 

Waylon shifted to let Eddie settle himself down, but the other shook his head. Instead, he filled a glass and handed it to Waylon before filling his own. It looked tiny compared to him. Almost ridiculously so. But his suggestion for buying a glass that could hold a bottle had been shot down. Something about keeping it small would encourage him to practice keeping his strength in check. Not that they didn't practice that enough between the sheets.  
Waylon cleared his throat and buried the thought for another time. Eddie looked out across the lake and took a sip of his wine. Really it was questionable if he should have been mixing it with his medication, but alcohol didn't seem to affect him anymore. Not after he healed so quickly. It was a little comic book hero for him to wrap his head around, but it at least meant he didn't.. have to worry too much about him. He could deal with the emotions easier than the carnage.

As much as Eddie didn't seem to like his appearance much, Waylon couldn't stop himself from revelling in his beauty. How his very existence was a spit in the face of a restrictive society. It made him want to try harder too.

 

“Waylon. There's something I want to ask you. But I don't know if it's too soon.” Eddie sucked on his lips, still not quite meeting his gaze.  
“Do you want to go back to Mt. Massive..?” He knew how much it'd meant to Rübezahl. Even if he didn't show himself as much these days, there were things he said, things he did that reminded him of the Woodwose's presence.  
“No. No, nothing like that. This.. this is.. well it's far greater than what Mt. Massive's national park could offer. The air may not be as clean, but... I'm at peace. I get to spend time with you.” He turned to face Waylon finally, although with the sun behind him once again it was difficult to see his features. There was no mistaking the glow of his irises, that otherworldly blue. It was piercing, so fixated. “You fought so much for me. For us. But, we never made plans about what we wanted to do afterwards. We were so fixated upon survival, you fell into my world. No plans for the future, just keeping on going. Outrunning Murkoff. I want so much more. I don't.. know what it is, but I want to _live_. Not just scrape by day after day. I don't know how I can achieve it like this, and I don't want to lean on you any more than I have. But all I know is I want to do it with you. I want to wake up every day next to you, I want to come home to you every night, I want you to always be there.” It was in the moment that Eddie paused, Waylon realised that the sun was more blinding. Eddie wasn't stood in the way. Though no matter how he crouched, he was still taller than Waylon sat down. Wait. “At first, I didn't know whether I would be allowed to, after all I'd put you through. How much I terrorised you, put you in danger. Calling you my darling felt dirty. Even when I wasn't.. me and I called you my Bride. You didn't.. stop me. I didn't know if you were being kind, but the lengths you've gone for me-- I don't want to be presumptuous. My Bride or my Husband, I don't care what it is. I want you to be mine and more importantly, I want you to want to be mine. Not just because you feel obliged, not because you want to be kind or do something to make me happy. This is meaningless unless you want it too.”  
“Why wouldn't I?-” He felt hoarse, it'd been a while since Eddie had spoken about his mental health to him. Stupidly he had assumed that he'd been fine, when really he'd spent a lot of time searching for himself.

Waylon stopped as he watched Eddie's hand unfurl. Within the confines was a small red velvet covered box. Gently he opened it to reveal a silver band with embedded labradorite stones. Suddenly Eddie's obsessive attendance to the crafts fair made sense. He felt the lump in the back of his throat get more prevalent.  
“Would you marry me?” Waylon watched the way it trembled in his grip, how he was desperately forcing his mouth into a straight line.

Some part of him had always assumed that Eddie had always planned how he was going to propose to someone. How he'd made it a grand and unprecedented gesture, he'd been suave and nothing but a gentleman about it. Sticking to tradition and making sure that no one would ever be able to top his proposal. That the wedding would be planned and paid for already.

Yet here he was, meek, cautious, downplayed and emotional.  
“Of course I will.”

Waylon practically threw himself at Eddie, pressing their foreheads together as they clung to one another. He wasn't surprised that the ring fit him perfectly. Though he'd never seen anything like it before, so he couldn't help but wonder if he'd commissioned someone for it. He knew Eddie was capable of many things, but jewellery making was a little too delicate for him these days.  
Eddie buried his face into Waylon's shoulder, holding him close as he shook. There was always the abject terror of rejection. That everything hadn't been real, he'd imagined the whole thing. The connection they shared was just another delusion. But this cemented everything. It gave him an anchor. It always had, really. The constant check-ins they shared; their intimacy.

 

But this was the final piece of the puzzle. That told him even if he was so abjectly abhorrent according to society and what it was to be perfect, he wasn't broken enough to be loved by another. That he wasn't so damaged he was incapable of affection. That all his self-hatred didn't mean that he was unlovable.

 

If anything, it made him forget about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm an atom in a sea of nothing  
> Looking for another to combine  
> Maybe we could be the start of something  
> Be together at the start of time
> 
> There's a ghost upon the moor tonight  
> Now it's in our house  
> When you walked into the room just then  
> It's like the sun came out  
> It's like the sun came out
> 
> And the day is clear  
> My voice is just a whisper  
> Louder than the screams you hear  
> It's like the sun came out"  
> Gabrielle Aplin - Start of Time
> 
>   
> I need a minute. I feel vain to cry over my own work, but it's taken me almost over a year to finish this and I never expected it to be so popular. Thank you to everyone for bookmarking, commenting, sending kudos, fanart and sending this to other people to read. I couldn't have carried on writing this if I hadn't known that people were waiting on me to update this self-indulgent drama-fest.  
> Thanks to all the people who listened to me babble on about plot ideas and where to go with this.
> 
> But y'all this ain't over yet. This is part one. I'm hoping to do more fluffy off-shoots as well as another big plot piece like this. I hope you'll all join me for the next one!
> 
> [Like what I do? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A7803S2B)]


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